8  = 

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LIBRARY 


OF 


UNIVERSITY 
CALIFJKNIA 
SAN  DIEGO 


From  the  ttoofrg 


Sftjabrth  Olrott 


THE  SEEKERS 


Friends  and  loves   we  have  none,     nor 

wealth,  nor  blest  abode. 
But    the    hope,    the    burning:- hope,    and 

the  road,   the  lonely  road. 

Not  for  us  are  content,  and  quiet,  and 
peace    of   mind,  mu,<=l.  ttnu 

For  we  go  seeking  cities  that  we  shall 
never  And. 

There    Is    no    solace    on    earth    for    us 

for    such   as   we — 
Who  search  for  the  hidden  beauty  that 

eyes   may  never   oce. 

Only   the   road  and   the  dawn,   the  sun 

the  wind,  the  rain. 
And    the    watch-fire    under    stars,    and 

sleep,  and  the  road  again. 

We  seek  the  City  of  God.  and  the 
haunt  where  beauty  dwells. 

And  we  find  the  noisy  mart  and  the 
sound  of  burial  bells. 

Never    the    golden    city,   where    radiant 

people   meet. 
But  the  dolorous  town  where  mourners 

are   going  about   the  street. 

We  travel  the  dusty  road  till  the  light 

of  the  day  is  dim 
And    sunset    shows    us    spires    aw?v    on 

the    world's    rim. 

We  travel  from  dawn  till  dusk,  till  the 

day    is    pa.st    and    bv. 
Seeking  the  Holy  City  beyond  the  rim 

of  the  sky. 

Friends    and    loves    we    have    not.    nor 

wealth,    nor   blest    abode. 
But    the    hope,    the    burning    hope,    and 

the  lonely  road. 

John    Maa«fleld 


THE  TRACED Y  OF  NAN 
AND  OTHER  PLAYS 


THE 

TRAGEDY  OF  NAN 

and  other  plays  by 
John  Masefield 


New  York  &  London 
MITCHELL  KENNERLEY 


Copyright  1909 
By  JOHN  MASEFIELD 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

The  Tragedy  of  Nan i 

The  Campden  Wonder 73 

Mrs.  Harrison  ,        .       „        .        .101 


THE  TRAGEDY  OF  NAN 


ACT  I 

SCENE: —  A  kitchen  in  the  house  of  a  small  tenant 
farmer  at  Broad  Oak,  on  Severn.     1810. 

(MRS  PARGETTER  and  JENNY  rolling  dough 
and  cutting  apples.) 

(JENN  Y  takes  flour  from  cupboard.) 

jenny.  It  do  seem  quiet  'ere,  Mother,  after  ser- 
vice. 

mrs.  p.     P'raps  now  I'll  'ave  some  quiet. 

jenny.  Only  think,  Mother,  the  ladies  'ad  cups 
of  tea  in  bed  of  a  morning. 

mrs.  p.  P'raps  now  you're  come  'ome,  I'll  'ave 
my  cup  of  tea,  it's  time  I'd  a  little  something  after 
all  I  gone  through. 

jenny.     Why,  Mother? 

mrs.  p.  What  with  that  girl — Mooning  round 
with  'er  great  eyes. 

jenny.     Do  'ee  mean  Cousin  Nan,  Mother? 

mrs.  p.  Mind  your  work.  I  wish  them  gro- 
ceries'd  come. 

jenny.  Us'll  'ardly  'ave  the  things  ready,  Mother. 
Company  be  coming  at  dark. 

mrs.  p.  Things'll  'ave  to  be  ready.  'Old  your 
tongue. 

jenny.  'Oo  be  coming,  Mother,  besides  Dick 
Gurvil? 

7 


THE    TRAGEDY    OF   NAN  [act  i 

mrs.  p.  Young  Artie  Pearce,  wold  Gaffer  Pearce, 
them  girls  o'  Robertses,  and  Tommy  Arker. 

jenny.     Us  shall  be  quite  a  pearty,  shan't  us? 

mrs.  p.  It  won't  be  much  of  a  pearty  to  me,  with 
that  Nan  in  the  room.     She  tokens  'er  dad  too  much. 

jenny.     Why,  Mother? 

mrs.  p.  Always  so  prim  and  well  be'aved,  thinking 
'erself  so  much  better  than  anyone. 

jenny.     Ah! 

mrs.  p.  Always  'elping  'er  friends  as  she  calls 
them. 

jenny.     'Elpin'  them,  Mother? 

mrs.  p.  Barthin'  their  brats  for  'em.  'Oo  knows 
what  dirt  they've  been  playing  in?  Or  mending 
their  linen.  Flying  in  the  face  of  Providence.  She 
might  bring  us  all  the  fever,  (going  over  to  get  a 
chair)  'Ow  many  more  times  am  I  to  tell  yer  I 
won't  'ave  your  things  left  about  ?  Look  'ere  at  this 
chair. 

jenny.    What  be  it,  Mother? 

mrs.  p.  Look  'ere  at  your  coat.  'Oo's  to  get 
you  a  new  coat  when  this  is  wore  out?  I  will  'ave 
you  careful.  Every  day  of  my  life  Fm  putting  your 
clothes  away.     Idle  lawkamercy  girl — 

jenny.  That  ben't  mine,  Mother.  That  be 
Cousin  Nan's. 

mrs.  p.  It's  a  wonder  you  couldn't  say  so  at  once. 
Oh !  so  it's  'ers,  is  it.  Wot's  she  got  in  'er  pockets,  I 
wonder,  (looks  in  pockets)  Wot's  'ere.  Oh!  rib- 
bons for  our  white  neck,  indeed.  Wot's  'ere.  Ho, 
indeed,     (taking  paper) 

jenny.     Wot's  that,  Mother,  a  letter? 

mrs.  p.  So  this  is  wot's  up,  is  it?  (she  glances 
at  paper) 

jenny,     (peeping)     It    looks    like    Dick    Gurvil's 
'and,  Mother — 
8 


act  i]  THE    TRAGEDY    OF    NAN 

mrs.  p.  You  'eed  your  duty,  (puts  paper  in 
her  own  pocket)  I'll  give  it  'er.  'Ere,  out  of  my  way. 
None  of  your  rags  in  my  way.  (flinging  coat  into 
a  corner) 

jenny.     Oh,  Mother,  it's  gone  into  the  pigwash. 

mrs.  p.     Wot  if  it  'as? 

jenny.  She  won't  be  able  to  wear  it  again,  Mo- 
ther.    Never. 

mrs.  p.  Let  'er  go  cold.  Learn  'er  not  to  leave 
'er  things  about.     Where  are  you  going  now? 

jenny.     I  was  just  going  to  hang  it  out,  Mother. 

mrs.  p.  Don't  you  dare  to  touch  it.  Stand  'ere 
and  do  your  work.  Let  that  dirty  gallus  bird  do 
'er  own  chores. 

jenny.     Whatever  do  'ee  mean,  Mother? 

mrs.  P.     A  gallus  bird;  that's  all  she  is. 

jenny.  Cousin  Nan,  Mother.  Why  do  'ee  call 
'er  that  ? 

mrs.  p.  Oh,  p'raps  your  Father  'aven't  a-told 
you. 

jenny.     No,  Mother. 

mrs.  p.  Run  and  see  if  that  be  Dick  with  the 
groceries. 

jenny,     (goes  to  window)     No,  Mother. 

MRS.  P.  Drat  'im.  Well,  this  mustn't  go  be- 
yond yer — it  ain't  to  be  known  about.  'Er  father — 
your  cousin  Nan's  father — wot  married  your  father's 
sister — 

jenny.     Yes,  Mother. 

mrs.  p.  Don't  interrup'  when  your  Mother's 
talking  to  yer.  'Er  father,  as  she's  so  stuck  on — 
'E  was  'ung. 

jenny.     'Ung,  Mother? 

MRS.  p.     At  Glorster  ja-il. 

jenny.     Whatever  'ad  'e  gone  for  to  do? 

mrs.  p.     'E  stole  a  sheep.     That's  wot  'e  did. 

9 


THE   TRAGEDY    OF    NAN    [act  i 


jenny.     And  so  'e  were  'ung. 
mrs.  p.     There's  a  thing  to  'appen  in  a  family. 
jenny.     So  be  that  why  Nan  come  'ere  ? 
mrs.  p.     Thanks  to  your  father. 
jenny.     I  didn't  think,  when  I  left  service  I  should 
'sociate  with  no  gallus  birds. 

mrs.  p.  Nor  you  wouldn't  if  your  father  was  in 
'is  right  mind.  The  Lord  'ath  laid  a  'eavy  judgmink 
on  your  father.  Wot  'e  wants  with  'er  I  can't 
think. 

jenny.     Her  may  remind  he  of  Auntie. 
MRS.  p.     'E's  no  call  to  be  reminded  of  any  woman, 
'cept  'er  the  Lord  'ath  bound  to  'im.     Wot  I  gorn 
through  with  that  Nan  in  the  'ouse'd  a  kill  a  Zebedee. 
They  do  say  they  be  'ard  to  ki?\. 
jenny.     'Ere  be  Father  coming. 
mrs.  p.     'E  'as  'is  lunch  of  a  mornin'  now.     Take 
'is  cider  off  tiie  'ob. 

jenny.     Where's     'is     bread     and    cheese?     (she 
takes  mug  off  hob,  looks  about  carelessly,  and  drops 
and  smashes  mug  on  hearth) 
mrs.  p.     There  now. 
jenny.     Oh,  Mother,  I've  broke  it. 
mrs.  p.     What  a  clumsy  'and  you  'ave. 
jenny.     It's    Father's    fav'rit    mug.     O    Mother, 
whatever  will  'e  say. 
mrs.  p.    'Ere.  Get  upstairs.    Get  into  the  next  room. 
jenny.     Whatever  will  'e  say!     'E  will  be  mad. 
(cries) 

mrs.  P.  I'll  talk  'im  round.  There!  It's  all  a 
accident.     Quick!  before  'e  comes  now. 

jenny.  'E  will  be  that  mad!  A  dear,  a  dear! 
(goes  out) 

mrs.  p.  (taking  out  letter)  So  this  is  wot  it's 
come  to:  (declaiming)  Dick  Gurvil  to  'is  fond 
beloved: 

10 


act  i]  THE   TRAGEDY    OF    NAN 

"As  I  was  a- walking  a  lady  I  did  meet 

I  knew  it  for  my  true  love  by  the  roses  on  'er 

cheek 
The  roses  on  'er  cheek  so  sweetly  did  grow 
My  'eart  out  of  my  bosom,  like  a  engine  did  go." 
I'll  watch  yer  Master  Dick. 

(ENTER  MR.  PARGETTER,  walking  with  a 
stick.     He  is  an  old,  shortish  thick-set  man,  still  hale) 

mr.  p.  (advancing  towards  MRS.  P.  and  gravely 
saluting)     Well,  Mother. 

mrs.  p.     Did  you  see  the  fiddler? 

mr.  p.     I  saw  the  fiddler. 

mrs.  p.     Is  'e  coming  to-night? 

mr.  p.  'E  is  coming.  Us  be  going  to  'ave  great 
wonders  to-night.     'Ot  mutton  parsty  pies. 

mrs.  p.  You  won't  eat  of  no  'ot  mutton  parsty 
pies.  You  know  'ow  that  sheep  died  as  well  as  I  do. 
'E  was  oovy.  (pause)  A  apple  parsty's  no  great 
wonders. 

mr.  p.     A  fiddler  and  a  apple  parsty's  wonders. 

mrs.  p.  It'll  fare  to  be  a  girt  wonder  if  th'  apple 
parsty  be  set.  The  amount  of  'elp  I  get  in  the  'ouse- 
work — 

mr.  p.     At  it  again. 

mrs.  p.     Yes,  I  am  at  it  again,  as  you  call  it. 

mr.  p.     What  is  it,  now? 

mrs.  p.  'Ow  much  longer  'ave  I  got  to  put  up 
with  that  Nan  in  the  'ouse? 

mr.  p.  My  niece  Nan'll  stay  in  this  'ouse  till — 
till  I  go  to  churchyard.  Or — till  she  marries,  (a 
pause)  Now  you  know  my  mind.  The  girl's  a 
good  girl,  if  you'd  let  up  in  your  naggin'  'er  'ed  off. 

mrs.  p.     Naggin',  Will? 

mr.  p.  'Ow's  any  girl  to  be  good  with  you  nag- 
gin' 'er  'ed  off  all  day  long. 

mrs.  p.     When  did  I  ever  nag,  as  you  call  it? 

11 


THE   TRAGEDY    OF    NAN    [acti 

mr.  p.  When?  'Ave  you  ever  give  'er  a  kind 
word  since  she  come  'ere. 

mrs.  p.  I  'ave  my  'eavenly  warrant  for  all  I  done, 
Will.  Them  as  the  Lord  afflicts  we  must  come  out 
from  and  be  ye  separate. 

mr.  p.  I  wonder  the  Lord  can  let  you  prosper, 
talking  like  that. 

mrs.  p.  'E  knows  'is  own,  Will.  You  mark 
my  words. 

mr.  p.  I  will  mark  'em.  And  you  mark  mine. 
You'll  treat  my  niece  Nan  as  you'd  treat  your  daugh- 
ter Jenny. 

mrs.  p.  Our  daughter  Jenny  is  the  child  of  re- 
spectable parents.  That — that  charity  girl  is  the 
daughter  of — 

mr.  p.  My  sister.  That's  'oo  she's  the  daughter 
of. 

mrs.  p.  And  a  thief  'oo  was  'ung.  I've  always 
been  respectable;  and  I've  always  kep'  my  girl  re- 
spectable. I  will  not  'ave  to  do  with  the  common 
and  the  unclean. 

mr.  p.  You'll  'ave  Nan  'ere,  and  you'll  stop  your 
nagging  jealous   tongue. 

mrs.  p.     Jealous? 

mr.  p.  Yes,  jealous.  You  make  'er  life  a  burden 
acos  she  tokens  my  sister.  You  was  sweet  on  'er 
dad  yourself.  That's  why  you  make  'er  life  a 
burden. 

mrs.  p.     Ho,  indeed!     Ha,  ha,  ha!     Wot  notions. 

mr.  p.  That's  the  truth  though.  I  know  yer. 
I  seen  somethink  of  yer  in  these  twenty  years. 

mrs.  p.  'Ark  you  to  me,  Will  Pargetter.  Could 
you  look  on  and  see  your  daughter  wronged? 

mr.  p.     What's  that  got  to  do  with  it. 

mrs.  p.  I'll  tell  you.  When  first  we  'ad  that 
charity  girl  'ere — 

12 


act  i]    THE    TRAGEDY    OF    NAN 


mr.  p.  You  call  'er  Nan.  Wot  are  you  waivin' 
that  bit  of  paper  at  me  for? 

mrs.  p.  We  'ad  'opes  as  our  Jenny'd  marry 
Dick  Gurvil  soon  as  she  come  back  from  service. 

mr.  p.     That  depended  on  Dick,  not  on  Jenny. 

mrs.  p.  Oh,  but  Dick  was  no  difficulty.  They 
kep'  company  before  Jenny  went  to  service.  Dick 
was  sweet  on  'er  all  right. 

mr.  p.     Dick  was  sweet  on  twenty  girls. 

mrs.  p.  No.  Since  that — that  idle  mooner  come 
'ere — Dick's  been  sweet  on  'er.  Look  'ere.  Look  at 
this,  (shews  letter) 

mr.  p.  I  don't  want  no  letter.  Put  it  where  yer 
got  it.  That's  the  best  thing  I  ever  'eard  of  Dick. 
Dick  wants  a  wife  with  sense. 

mrs.  p.  You'll  let  'er  marry  'im,  after  'is  carrying 
on  along  o'  Jenny.  And  break  your  own  daughter's 
'art. 

mr.  p.     Jenny's  got  no  'art. 

mrs.  p.  Jenny'd  resolve  'er  'eavenly  crown  for 
Dick  Gurvil.  'Ow  dare  you  blacken  your  own 
child? 

mr.  p.  Blacken  'er.  She  's  a  cold  'eartless  little 
baggage,  Jenny  is.  Our  Nan's  worth  a  'undred 
of  'er. 

mrs.  p.  And  you  expect  me  to  see  that  great- 
eyed,  ugly,  scrawf  marrying  my  daughter's  man. 

mr.  p.  He's  not  your  daughter's  man.  Dick's 
everybody's  daughter's  man.  If  'e  steps  up  and 
marries  our  Nan— it'll  be  the  making  of  'im.  Give 
me  my  lunch. 

mrs.  p.  Ah!  I  was  forgetting.  You  put  me  out 
of  patience.  I'm  afraid  I  spoke  'asty,  Will.  I've 
a  'asty  tongue  (with  suavity) 

MR.  p.     There,  there!     Where's  my  vittles? 

(She  puts  down  bread  and  cheese) 


THE   TRAGEDY    OF    NAN    [act  i 

(PARGETTER  gets  up  to  fetch  mug  from  the  hob) 

MR.  P.  Thank  ye,  Mother,  (he  sees  the  mug 
broken)  Law,  Mother.  You  'aven't  a  broke  my 
Toby. 

mrs.  p.     There,  there  now,  Will,  it  was  a  accidenk. 

mr.  p.     Not  my  Toby,  broken? 

mrs.  p.  It  was  a  accidenk.  (she  picks  up  the 
pieces) 

mr.  p.  'Ooever  'ave  a  broke  my  Toby.  Why 
weren't  I  told  to  onst? 

mrs.  p.     She  were  goin'  to  tell  yer,  she  said. 

mr.  p.  Not — not  Nan?  It  wasn't  Nan  broke 
it? 

mrs.  p.  'Er  said  'er'd  tell  you  to  onst.  It  was  a 
accidenk. 

mr.  p.     But  no  accidenk  could  a  broke  my  Toby. 

mrs.  p.  There,  there.  Us'll  buy  another's  good 
as  'er. 

mr.  p.  But  I've  a  'ad  my  zider  outen  ov  'er  this 
fifty  year,  like  my  gran'fer  'ave  a-done.  I'd  a  value 
for  that  Toby. 

mrs.  P.  'Er'll  tell  'ee  'ow  it  was.  It  was  a  ac- 
cidenk. She  was  in  a  'urry,  you  see.  Getting  things 
ready  for  the  pearty.     It  was  quite  a  accidenk. 

mr.  p.     'Ow  could  it  be  quite  a  accidenk? 

mrs.  p.  'Er  'ands  were  wet,  you  see;  she's  par- 
ticular about  'er  'ands — 

mr.  p.     Clumsy  'anded — 

mrs.  p.  They  was  all  soapy  from  washing.  It 
was  quite  a  accidenk. 

mr.  p.     And  so  she  let  it  slip. 

mrs.  p.  She  didn't  see  where  she  was  going. 
The  sun  was  in  'er  eyes  or  somethink.  She's  goin' 
to  tell  yer  'ow  it  was. 

mr.  p.  My  wold  Toby  jug  as  Granfer  'ad.  'Er 
could  a  broak  my  'eart  sooner.  'Er  could.  'Er 
14 


act  i]    THE   TRAGEDY    OF    NAN 

could,  (he  pushes  away  his  bread  and  cheese)  I 
can't  eat  my  vittles  after  that.  That  I  can't.  Care- 
less girt  gowk! 

(ENTER  NAN— OLD  PARGETTER  stares 
at  her  hard  all  through  this  scene) 

nan.     You  be  back  early,  Uncle. 

mrs.  p.     Well? 

nan.     Yes,  Aunt. 

mrs.  p.  "Yes,  aunt".  'Ave  you  looked  at  your- 
self long  enough  in  the  glass  ? 

nan.     What  glass? 

mrs.  p.     The  glass  upstairs. 

nan.  The  beds  are  made.  I  suppose  that's  what 
you  mean. 

mrs.  p.  That's  not  the  way  to  talk  before  your 
uncle. 

nan.     May  I  help  you  cut  them  apples,  Aunt? 

mrs.  p.  No,  you  mayn't  'elp  me  cut  these  apples. 
You  get  your  own  work. 

nan.     I've  done  all  my  work,  Aunt. 

mrs.  p.     None  of  your  impudence,     (very  sharply) 

nan.     I  have. 

mrs.  p.  If  you  'ave,  it's  not  done  properly  I  know. 
I've  a  good  mind  to  make  you  do  it  over.  A  very 
good  mind. 

nan.     Is  that  the  dough  for  the  pasty? 

mrs.  p.     None  o'  yer  business. 

(NAN  picks  up  a  rolling  pin) 

Put  down  that  pin  when  you're  told. 

nan.  I  wish  you'd  let  me  'elp,  Aunt?  Comp'ny 
be  coming  at  dark. 

mrs.  p.  What's  it  to  do  with  you?  I  know  w'en 
comp'ny's  coming  without  your  dinnin'  it  into  me. 

(NAN  goes  softly  to  the  dresser) 

Wot  are  you  creepin'  about  on  tiptoe  for?  One'd 
think  you  were  a  thief,  like  your  father. 

15 


THE    TRAGEDY    OF    NAN    [  act  i 


nan.  {meekly)  I  didn't  want  to  disturve  you, 
Aunt. 

mrs.  p.  Disturve  me!  You  couldn't  disturve 
me  more  if  you  tried. 

nan.     I'm  sorry,  Aunt. 

mrs.  p.    You  know  that  perfectly  well. 

nan.     I'm  sorry,  Aunt. 

mrs.  p.     'Ere,  you  give  me  the  fidgets. 

nan.     'Ave  you  one  of  your  sick  headaches,  Aunt  ? 

mrs.  p.  You  give  me  the  sick'edache.  One  would 
think  you  might  'ave  'ad  a  little  gratitood. 

nan.  When  I  was  grateful  you  called  me  a  'ipo- 
crit. 

mrs.  p.  Oh!  Wlien  was  you  grateful,  as  you 
call  it? 

nan.  When  I  first  come  'ere.  I  did  my  best,  I 
did.  I  thought  you'd  like  me  if  I  work'  'ard,  and 
'elped  you. 

mrs.  p.     Did  yer  think! 

nan.  I  used  to  make  you  tea  afore  you  got  up  of 
a  morning:  I  wash  up  the  dinner  things,  so  as  you 
could  'ave  your  nap  of  a  afternoon.  I  never  let  you 
do  the  week's  washing,  not  once,  since  I  come  'ere. 

mrs.  p.  One  'ud  expect  a  little  something.  After 
all  that's  been  done  for  you. 

nan.  Done  for  me!  What  have  you  ever  done 
for  me? 

mrs.  p.     Given  you  a  'ome. 

nan.    A  home? 

mrs.  p.  There's  not  many  would  'ave  took  in  a 
girl  'er  dad  being  'ung.     But  I  says  to  your  Uncle — 

nan.  I  know  what  you  said  to  Uncle.  That  the 
Rector  'ad  asked  you  to  take  me  in.  That's  what 
you  said  to  Uncle.  You  was  afeared  the  Rector'd 
let  it  be  known  if  you  refused.  You  was  afeared 
folk'd  get  to  know  you  for  what  you  are.   That's 

16 


act  i]    THE   TRAGEDY    OF    NAN 

why  you  took  me  in.  (more  softly)  D'ye  think  I 
don't  know,  Aunt.  I  feel  I  do.  (pause)  And  down 
in  the  shop  they  tell  me  what  a  friend  you've  been 
to  me.  "Mrs.  Pargetter  'ave  been  kind  tiv  ee", 
they  say.  And  Mrs.  Drew  at  the  Rectory.  She's 
another.  "  'Ow  grateful  you  must  feel  towards  your 
aunt."  That's  what  she  says.  And  you  smile. 
You  take  it  all  in  smiling.  You  lick  your  lips  over 
all  their  praise.  Or  you  play  the  martyr.  You  play 
the  martyr.  D'ye  think  I  haven't  heard  you?  "A 
lot  of  return  I  get,"  that's  what  you  say.  They 
praise  you  for  being  good  to  me.  Good!  You! 
And  you  make  my  life  here  a  hell.  You  lick  your 
lips  to  make  life  hell  to  me.  And  you  tell  lies  about 
me.  You  mean  woman.  You  so  holy,  you  tell 
lies. 

mr.  p.  (angrily)  Now  none  of  that  now.  That's 
enough.     You  leave  the  room. 

mrs.  p.  No,  she'll  not  leave  the  room.  I'll  learn 
'er  to  be'ave  first,  (to  NAN)  I'd  'ave  you  remem- 
ber as  your  daily  bread  as  you're  so  fond  of  is  give 
you  by  me  and  your  Uncle. 

nan.     Given  me? 

mrs.  p.  Per'aps  you'll  deny  as  vou  'ave  your 
food — God  knows  you  eat  enough. 

nan.  And  every  morsel  bitter.  Bitter.  You 
make  it  burn  in  my  throat. 

mrs.  p.  And  a  roof  over  your  'ed,  which  is  more 
than  your  merits. 

nan.     So  'as  a  man  in  a  prison  a  roof. 

mrs.  p.  Yes.  You're  right.  'E  'as  till  'e's  'ling. 
And  you  'ave  your  clothes.  The  very  clothes  on 
your  back.  Talking  of  clothes,  that  reminds  me. 
Take  that  dirty  coat  of  yours  out  of  the  pig  wash 
where  you  put  it.  I  suppose  you  want  to  poison  the 
pigs  next 

17 


THE   TRAGEDY    OF     NAN  [act  i 

nan.  (turning  to  pig  wash  trow)  Oh!  'Oo've 
bin  and  done  that?  (at  the  point  of  tears)  I  sup- 
pose you  think  it  funny  to  spoil  a  poor  girl's  clothes. 
And  now  it's  spoiled,  (she  takes  ribbon  from  pocket) 
And  this  is  spoiled.  What  I'd  saved  up  for.  Now 
I  shan't  have  any.  You  put  that  in  the  trow.  You 
know  you  did. 

mrs.  p.  You  say  I  put  your  dirty  things  in  the 
trow  and  I'll  put  you  in.  Talk  like  that  to  me,  will 
yer?  One  of  these  days  I'll  give  you  the  cart  whip, 
like  what  you  deserve. 

nan  (turning  to  hide  tears).  You  read  your  Bible, 
and  you  go  to  church,  and  you  do  a  thing  like  that. 
You  put  a  poor  girl's  coat  in  the  trow  and  as  good 
as  deny  it  afterwards. 

mr.  p.  Now  come,  come,  come.  'Ow  d'yer 
expect  to  be  ready  for  to-night?  Let's  ave  no  more 
catanddoggin'  here. 

mrs.  p.  I'm  not  talking  to  you.  'Old  yer  peace. 
(furiously  at  interruption)  I'm  talking  to  you  (To 
NAN)  You're  a  black,  proud,  ungrateful  cat. 
Wot  your  'eart'll  look  like  on  the  Day  of  Judgemink 
beats  me. 

nan.  Oh!  (contemptuously — she  opens  out  the 
sopping  coat) 

mrs.  p.  I'll  give  yer  'oh'.  'Ere.  Don't  go 
dripping  the  pig  wash  all  about  the  place.  You 
drop  it.  Give  it  to  me  'ere — 'ere.  (she  snatches  at 
the  coat  and  tries  to  wrench  it  from  NAN's  hands) 

nan.     Don't  you  dare  to  touch  it.     Let  go  of  it. 

mrs.  P.     Will  yer.     Leggo  now. 

nan.  I  won't.  No  you  don't.  You'll  tear  it  in 
another  minute.     I'll  kill  you  if  you  tear  it. 

mrs.  p.    Wot'll  you? 

nan.     I'll  kill  you.     I'll  kill  you. 

mrs.  p.  (putting  both  hands  to  the  coat  and  wrench- 
It 


act  i]  THE    TRAGEDY    OF    NAN 

ing  it  free;  then  slashing  it  into  NAN's  face)  I'll 
show  you  'oo's  mistress  'ere,  my  lady.  Now — see. 
(she  tears  the  collar  off  and  stamps  on  it)  There. 
You'll  do  what  you're  told  'ere,  my  lady. 

(NAN  holds  table  and  glares  at  her  aunt  then 
picks  up  the  cutting  knife) 

nan.  (slowly)  My  dad  gave  me  that  coat,  (a 
pause)     My  dad. 

mrs.  p.     Mind,  Will,  she's  got  the  knife  in  'er  'and. 

par.  (going  to  her)  Give  me  thicky  knife,  (he 
takes  it  from  her)  No  temper  'ere.  I've  got  one 
score  against  you  already.  Wot's  come  to  you  to- 
day? 

mrs.  p.  The  devil's  come  to  'er.  She's  pretty 
near  tore  my  arm  off. 

nan.     (slowly)     You  be  careful. 

mrs.  p.     But  I'll  teach  yer. 

nan.     You  be  careful. 

par.     Nan,  you  go  to  your  room. 

(NAN  sullenly  picks  up  the  torn  coat  and  then 
bursts  into  tears) 

nan.  My  dad  give  me  this  coat.  It's  a  dear  coat. 
(she  smooths  out  the  torn  and  crumpled  stuff)  And 
now  it's  all  torn.  (The  PARGETTERS  watch  her  with 
a  sort  of  hard  scorn)  I'll  never  be  able  to  wear  en 
again.  Oh,  my  dad,  I  wish  I  was  dead.  I  wish  I 
was  dead. 

par.     No  sinful  talk  like  that,  now.     Iwon't'ave  it. 

nan.     Uncle!     I  'ave  tried,  I  'ave,  Uncle. 

par.  Don't  turn  to  me,  girl.  You'd  ought  to  turn 
to  God — giving  way  to  the  devil — No — and  you've 
not  been  straight.  If  you'd  told  me  at  once  I'd 
'ave  let  it  pass.  Though  I  felt  it.  (a  pause,  then 
testily)  Come  now,  be  straight.  That's  above  all 
things. 

(a  pause,  NAN  sobs) 

19 


THE   TRAGEDY    OF    NAN    [act  i 

Eh? 

(NAN  sobs) 

mr.  p.  (rising)  'Aven't  you  something  to  tell 
me? 

nan.    No!     No! 

par.     (grimly)     I   thought  you   'ad.     (turning) 

nan.     Oh,  Uncle!     Do  'ee. 

mr.  p.     (going)     I  didn't  think  it  of  you. 

nan.     Uncle. 

MR.  p.     I  didn't  think  it. 

(EXIT) 

mrs.  p.  (going  up  to  her)  I'll  make  your  belly 
bitter,  like  in  the  Bible. 

nan.  You!  Oh!  (turns  from  her)  Oh,  Dad, 
I  wish  I  were  with  'ee,  I  do. 

mrs.  p.  (bitterly)  You'll  spoil  yer  looks  for  to- 
night, I  shouldn't  wonder.  You  won't  ave  yer 
young  men  neighing  after  yer.     Dirty  'ogs. 

(NAN  picks  up  apples  and  begins  to  cut  tfiem, 
still  crying) 

mrs.  p.  I'll  watch  you  with  your  young  men! 
I'm  not  going  to  'ave  no  mothers  coming  round 
complaining. 

nan.  (slowly)  I  'ope  you  may  never  feel  wot  I 
feel. 

(ENTER  JENNY) 

jenny.     Mawther! 

MRS.  p.     'Ush! 

jenny.     There  be  Dick's  trap  with  the  groceries. 

mrs.  p.  Time  too.  'Ere  (to  NAN)  go  and  get 
them! 

nan.     Me  ? 

mrs.  p.  Yes,  you.  'Oo  else.  Do  something  for 
your  living  for  once  in  a  way. 

(EXIT  NAN) 

jenny.    Mother,  wot  'ave  Dad  say? 
20 


actiI    THE    TRAGEDY    OF    NAN 

mrs.  p.     'Ush  yer  tongue.     I've  made  that  right. 

jenny.  O  mother.  I  thort  'e'd  'ave  my  'ed  off 
for  it. 

mrs.  p.  Never  you  'eed  of  that.  I've  somethink 
else  to  say  to  you.     That  girl,  Nan — 

jenny.     Wot,  Mother? 

mrs.  p.  {speaking  very  rapidly)  You  better 
watch  out  she  don't  tread  a  thy  corns,  as  well  as  thy 
mother's  she've  a  done. 

jenny.     Wot  do  'ee  mean,  mother? 

mrs.  p.     Dick  Gurvil's  'oo  I  mean. 

jenny     Oh ! 

mrs.  p.  Yes,  Dick  Gurvil!  She've  set  'er  cap 
at  Dick. 

jenny.     Oh! 

mrs.  p.  (mimicking)  Oh!  Oh!  Yes,  and  Dick 
be  sweet  on  'er. 

jenny.     I  don't  care,  mother. 

mrs.  p.  Yes,  you  do  care.  'Ave  done  o'  your 
folly. 

jenny.  Dick  can  please  'isself  so  far  as  I'm  con- 
cerned, I'm  sure. 

mrs.  p.  No  'e  can't  please  'isself,  as  you  call  it. 
'Oo  else'd  yer  get  if  you  lose  'im?  You  take  a  man 
when  you  can  get  'im.  There  ain't  too  many,  let 
me  tell  ver. 

jenny.  I  do-an't  care,  I'm  sure.  I  don't  want 
no  men. 

mrs.  p.  Don't  you  want.  You  listen  to  me. 
You  got  ter  want.  Whether  you  like  or  not.  I 
ain't  goin'  to  'ave  you  the  talk  of  the  town. 

jenny.     Lor,  mother!     I  didn't  think  of  that. 

mrs.  P.     No,   I   know  you  didn't  think. 

jenny.     Lor,  mother. 

mrs.  p.     'Oo  'ad  'er  man  took  by  a  gallus-bird. 

jenny*    Would  they  say  that,  Mother? 

21 


THE   TRAGEDY    OF   NAN   [act  i 

mrs.  p.  'Oo's  she  to  take  Dick  Gui-vi"?  If 
you'd  any  pride — 

jenny.     Be  you  sure  she  be  a-trying  for  Dick? 

mrs.  p.     Well,  you  best  find  out. 

jenny.     I'll  watch  it,  I  will. 

mrs.  p.  (as  NAN  ENTERS)  Ah!  you'd  abet- 
ter! Now  I  got  to  see  to  the  'ouse  work.  I'll  ex- 
pect you  to  'ave  everythink  ready  against  I  come  back. 
(to  NAN)  You  may  think  as  you're  someone. 
I'll  learn  you  different.  None  o'  your  tricks,  'ere. 
No!  Nor  none  of  your  mother's  carryings  on  (a 
pause)  with  men.  That's  wot  I  mean  ....  Gallus 
bird. 

(She  goes  out,  NAN  draws  a  chair  to  the  table — 
JENNY  is  already  seated — and  begins  to  cut  apples. 
She  is  crying.  She  gathers  the  torn  coat  together 
tenderly) 

jenny.  Never  mind  Mother,  Nan.  She  don't 
mean  nothin! 

nan.     I  don't — 

jenny.  She  be  only  put  out  by  'avin'  comp'ny 
to-night. 

nan.  It's  not!  It's  not!  Oh,  she'd  ought  to 
leave  my  father. 

jenny.  There,  there  now — let  I  get  'ee  some  warm 
warter  off  the  'ob.     Your  eyes'll  be  as  red  as  red. 

nan.     I  don't  care,  I  don't  care. 

jenny.  Why,  come  now.  Us  be  going  to  be  girt 
friends,  us  be,  ben't  us?  Mother  be  a  'ard  woman 
to  please.     But  'er  don't  mean  it. 

nan.  Her  do  speak  so  bitter.  They  be  all  against 
me!     The  'ole  world  be  against  me. 

jenny,  (with  bowl  of  water  and  a  handkerchief) 
Do  'ee  jest  mop  thy  eyes.     Or  let  I. 

nan.  It  be  kind  of  you  to  trouble.  What  a  girt 
silly  I  be  to  cry  so! 

22 


act  i]    THE    TRAGEDY    OF    NAN 

jenny.  Your  eyes'll  be  as  red.  Come,  come! 
There  be  'andsome  young  men  a-comin'.  I  wouldn't 
wonder  as  they  be  all  sweet  on  you!  I  wouldn't 
wonder  as  you'd  'ave  a  sweet'eart  some  Easter. 

nan.     A  sweet'eart!     A  charity  girl! 

jenny.  Don't  take  it  to  'eart.  Us  be  goin'  to  be 
friends,  ben't  us,  dear? 

nan.     It  be  kind  of  you  to  speak  kind. 

jenny.  And  us'll  go  out  of  a  Sunday.  Why, 
us'll  be  girt  friends.  It  go  to  my  'eart  to  think  of 
thy  trouble. 

nan.     Will  'ee  be  a  friend,  cousin  Jenny? 

jenny.  There,  there.  Wot  pretty  eyes  you  'ave. 
Your  'air's  thicker  than  mine.  'Ow  you  do  a  set  it 
off.     Us'll  'ave  no  secrets,  will  us? 

nan.  'Ee  will  be  my  friend,  won't  'ee,  Jenny? 
Do-an't  'ee  be  agen  me — I  couldn't  bear  it  if  you 
turned  against  me.  I've  sometimes  been  near  kill- 
ing myself  since  I  came  here.  Your  Mother's  been 
that  bitter  to  me. 

jenny.     Don't  'ee  say  such  things. 

nan.  Jenny,  I'll  tell  'ee  why  I  didn't  kill 
myself. 

jenny.     Lord,  Nan,  doa-n't  'ee. 

nan.  I  want  'ee  to  bear  with  me,  Jenny.  I'll 
tell  'ee  why  I  didn't  kill  myself.  I  thought  .... 
there  ....  it's  only  nonsense.  Did  you  ever  think 
about  men,  Jenny?  About  loving  a  man?  About 
marriage  ? 

jenny.  I've  'oped  to  'ave  a  'ome  of  my  own. 
And  not  to  be  a  burden  'ere  and  that. 

nan.     Ah!     But  about  'elping  a  man? 

jenny.  A  man  'as  strength.  'E  ought  to  'elp  a 
woman. 

nan.     I  could  'elp  a  man,  Jenny. 

jenny.     Wot  ideyers  you  do  'ave! 

23 


THE   TRAGEDY    OF   NAN    Ucti 

nan.  When  a  girl's  'eart  is  breaking,  Jenny, 
she  'as  ideyers. 

jenny.     Ah! 

nan.     Jenny! 

jenny.    Yes,  Nan? 

nan.  I've  never  talked  to  a  woman  like  this  afore. 
I  felt  I'd  die  if  I  couldn't  talk  to  someone. 

jenny.     I  know,  exackly! 

nan.  When  I  see  you  so  kind,  and  you  so  pretty 
Jenny,  I  felt  I  must  speak. 

jenny.     Do  you  think  me  pretty,  Nan? 

nan.     Yes,  Jenny. 

jenny.  In  service  they  thought  me  pretty.  All 
but  cook. 

nan.     You  are  pretty,  Jenny. 

jenny.  Cook  was  a  unpleasant  old  thing.  She 
did  'er  'air  in  papers.  No  ladies  do  their  'air  in 
papers!  Ow!  she  was  'orrid  of  a  morning.  O! 
the  waste  I  see  go  on  in  that  'ouse.  They  'ad  pastry 
every  day.  And  the  ladies  had  milk  and  biscuits  at 
eleven  of  a  morning. 

nan.     You  must  tell  me  all  your  secrets,  Jenny. 

jenny.     That  I  will.     And  will  'ee  tell  I  all  yourn  ? 

NAN.     If  you  like,  Jenny. 

jenny.  And  will  'ee  tell  I  when  you  'ave  a  sweet- 
'eart? 

nan.  Ah!  A  sweet'eart.  You  must  tell  me  about 
yours,  Jenny. 

jenny.     Ah!     I  ain't  got  one  yet. 

nan.     'Aven't  you,  Jenny? 

jenny.     Noa.     Not  one  special  like. 

nan.  You'll  'ave  one  soon,  Jenny.  O  Jenny, 
I  hope  you'll  be  very  'appy. 

jenny.  Love  be  queer,  ben't  it?  The  things 
it  makes  people  do.     Could  'ee  fancy  a  man,  Nan? 

nan.    Perhaps. 
24 


act  i]   THE   TRAGEDY    OF   NAN 

jenny.     Ugly  girt  scrawfs,  I  think  they  be. 

nan.     Not  all  of  them. 

jenny.  Perhaps  you  'ave  a  fancy,  Nan?  'Ave 
you,  dear.  'Ave  you?  'Oo  be  it,  Nan?  Tell  me, 
dearie.  I  wouldn't  tell  a  single  soul.  Tell  me,  Nan. 
You  said  as  you'd  'ave  no  secrets  from  me. 

nan.     Ah! 

jenny.     Is  it  anyone  I  know? 

(NAN  goes  to  her  and  puts  an  arm  round  her  and 
kisses  her) 

nan.     Yes,  dear. 

jenny.     Be  it  Artie  Pearce? 

nan.     No,  Jenny. 

jenny.     'Oo  be  it.     It  be  a  shame  not  to  tell  me! 

nan.     Jenny  dear? 

jenny.     Yes,  Nan.     Tell  me  now.     Whisper. 

nan.     It  be  Dick  Gurvil,  Jenny. 

jenny.     Dick  Gurvil? 

nan.     I  love  him.     I  love  him. 

jenny.     Do  you  love  him  very  much? 

nan.     It  feel  like  my  'eart  was  in  flower,  Jenny. 

jenny.  Ah!  It  must,  (a  pause)  I  'ope  you'll 
be  very  'appy.     You  and  Mr.  Gurvil. 

nan.     God  bless  you,  Jenny. 

jenny.  What  eyes  you  have  got,  cousin  Nan. 
To  think  of  you  fancying  Dick!  It  be  nice  to  'ave 
you  for  a  friend,  cousin  Nan. 

nan.     Kiss  me,  dear.     You've  never  kissed  me. 

jenny.  There!  Go  and  bathe  thy  eyes,  Nan. 
They'll  be  red  if  'ee  don't.  'Ee  mustn't  'ave  them 
red  for  Dick  to-night.     Bathe  'em  in  cold. 

nan.     I  could  cry,  I  could,     (she  goes  slowly  out) 

jenny,     (at   the   other  door)     Mother,     (a  pause) 
(softly)     Mother. 
mrs.  p.     (off)     Yes! 

jenny.     Come  'ere  a  momeU 

25 


THE   TRAGEDY    OF   NAN    [acti 

mrs.  p.  (wiping  her  hands)  What  d'yer  want 
now. 

jenny.  About  Nan. 

mrs.  p.  Wot?    Wot  about  'er? 

jenny,  (giggling)  She  be  soft  on  Dick,  Mother. 
Her've  a-told  me. 

MRS.  p.  Ho! 

jenny,  (giggling)     Us'll  'ave  to  watch  it,  Mother. 

mrs.  p.  I'll  watch  it. 

curtain 


26 


ACT  II 

SCENE:— The  kitchen.     NAN  tidying  up.    She 
places  tray,  glasses  and  bottle  in  inner  room 

nan.     (sings)  .... 

Blow,  blow,  thou  winds  of  winter  blow, 
And  cover  me  with  sparklen  snow, 
And  tear  the  branches  from  the  tree, 
And  strew  the  dead  leaves  over  me. 

dick,     (coming  in)     Miss  Nan. 

nan.  Why,  Mr.  Gurvil!  What  a  start  you  give 
me.     You  be  early. 

dick.     Ah?     When'll  the  others  be  'ere? 

nan.     Not  yet.     It's  not  half  past  yet. 

dick.  When'll  the  others — Mrs.  Pargetter — be 
down  ? 

nan.  They  won't  be  down  this  ten  minutes.  They 
be  dressing. 

dick.     And  'aven't  the  fiddler  come? 

nan.     No. 

dick,     Per'aps  I'd  a  better  go  out  again. 

nan.  No.  Come  in  and  sit  down,  Mr.  Dick. 
They'll  be  'ere  direckly.  I'll  be  done.  Tell  me  the 
news  in  the  great  world.     What  be  'appening? 

dick.  They  do  say  there  be  a  criminal  a-broak 
loose.     Out.  of  Glorster  jail. 

nan.     Indeed! 

dick.  And  come  'idin'  'ere  somewhere,  they 
think. 

27 


THE   TRAGEDY    OF   NAN  [act  n 

nan.     What  makes  them  think  that? 

dick.  I  dunno.  But  there  be  a  Bow  Street  Run- 
ner. And  there  be  a  gentleman  come.  They  were 
askin'  where  Parson  live.  They  must  be  'avin'  a 
hue  and  cry.  Hope  they'll  catch  'im  and  'ang  'im. 
I'd  like  to  sick  the  dogs  at  'em. 

nan.  They  be  'uman  beings,  like  us  be,  Mr. 
Dick. 

dick,  (undoing  his  neck-cloth)  No,  they  ben't 
like  us.  That  be  where  you  women  go  wrong. 
Along  of  your  'earts,  that  is.  I'd  like  to  see  all 
criminals  'anged.  Then  us  honest  ones  might  fare 
to  prosper.     (He  takes  off  neck-cloth) 

nan.  What'll  you  take,  Mr.  Dick,  after  your 
walk? 

dick.     What  be  going? 

nan.  'Ave  some  zider  and  a  cake.  They  be  in 
the  next  room,  ready. 

dick.     If  it  ben't  troubling  you,  I  ull. 

(NAN  fetches  mug  and  plate) 

dick,  (taking  a  cake)  I'd  ought  to  be  a-waiting  on 
you,  not  you  a-waiting  on  me.  Only  I  'avent  any 
angel-cakes  'ere.  None  but  angel-cakes  'd  be  fit 
eating  for  you,  Miss  Nan. 

nan.  Oh,  now,  I  wonder  how  many  girls  you've 
made  that  speech  to. 

dick.     None,  I  never. 

nan.     Well,  I  hope  you  like  your  cake? 

dick.  It  be  beautiful.  A  spice-cake,  when  it  be 
split  and  buttered,  <md  just  set  to  the  fire,  so  as  the 
butter  runs.  I  don't  mean  to  toast  it;  but  just  set 
to  the  fire,  and  then  just  a  sprinkle  of  sugar  to  give 
it  a  taste.  No  so  as  to  make  it  sweet,  you  know. 
It  go  down  like  roses.  Like  kissing  a  zweet  'eart  at 
'arvest  time.     When  the  girt  moon  be  zhining. 

nan.     If  they  be  all  that  to  you,  Mr.  Dick,  you 
28 


act  ii]  THE   TRAGEDY    OF    NAN 

must  'ave  another.  Try  and  think  the  clock  be  the 
moon  a-zhining. 

(she  gets  more  cakes) 

dick.  It  be  lovely  'aving  cakes  and  you  bringing 
them  to  me.  (Bites)  But  there  ben't  no  sugar,  not 
on  this  one.  Miss  Nan,  will  'ee  jest  put  thy  pretty 
'and  on  this  cake,  and  then  it'll  be  sugared  lovely. 

nan.  I'm  not  going  to  do  anything  so  silly.  'Ere. 
Take  this  one.     This  one  be  sugared. 

dick,  (eating)  It  'ud  be  just  'eaven  if  you'd 
'ave   'alf  of  it.     So's   I   might  feel — some'ow — as — 

nan.  No.  I  won't  'ave  any.  'Ave  another  drop 
of  zider. 

dick,  (tasting)  Your  zider  be  too  peert,  Miss 
Nan.  I  like  zider  to  be  peert,  like  I  likes  my  black 
puddens  done,  up  to  a  point.  But  zider's  peert's 
this — I  tell  you  what  it  want.  It  want  to  'ave  a 
apple  roast  therein,  and  a  sod  toast  therein,  and  then 
it  want  to  'ave  a  nutmeg  grated  ever  so  light,  not 
rough,  yer  know.  And  then  it  be  made  mellow, 
like,  like  tart  of  a  Sunday. 

nan.  Why,  Mr.  Dick,  you'd  ought  to  have  been 
a  cook,  I  think. 

dick.  My  father  say  to  me — "Mind  thy  innards", 
he  say.  I  'ad  to  do  for  my  father,  arter  mother  died. 
Very  pertiklar  about  his  innards  dad  were.  I  learned 
about  innards  from   'im. 

nan.  It  be  wonderful  to  'ave  a  father  to  do  for. 
To  think  as  he  knowed  'ee  when  you  were  a  little 
un.  To  think  as  perhaps  'e  give  up  lots  o'  things, 
so's  you  might  fare  to  be  great  in  the  world. 

dick.  My  dad  never  give  up.  'E  said  'e  try  it 
once,  just  to  try  like.     It  never'd  'ave  suit  my  dad. 

nan.  It  be  always  'ard  for  a  man  to  give  up,  even 
for  a  child,  they  say.  But  a  woman  'as  to  give  up. 
You  don't  know.     You  never  think  per'aps  what  a 

29 


THE   TRAGEDY    OF   NAN  [act  n 

woman  gives  up.  She  gives  up  'er  beauty  and  'er 
peace.  She  gives  up  'er  share  of  joy  in  the  world. 
All  to  bear  a  little  one;  as  per'aps'll  not  give  'er  bread 
when  'er  be  wold. 

dick.  I  wonder  women  ever  want  to  'ave  children. 
They  be  so  beautiful  avore  they  'ave  children.  They 
'ave  their  red  cheeks,  so  soft.  And  sweet  lips  so 
red's  red.  And  their  eyes  bright,  like  stars  a-zhining. 
And  oh,  such  white  soft  'ands.  Touch  one  of  'em, 
and  you  'ave  like  shoots  all  down.  Beau-ti-vul. 
Love-lee. 

nan.  It  be  a  proud  thing  to  'ave  a  beauty  to 
raise  love  in  a  man. 

dick.  And  after.  I  seen  the  same  girls,  with 
their  'ands  all  rough  of  washing-day,  and  their  fin- 
gers all  scarred  of  stitching.  And  their  cheeks  all 
flaggin',  and  sunk.  And  dull  as  toads'  bellies,  the 
colour  of  'em.  And  their  eyes  be  'eavy,  like  a  foun- 
dered wold  ewe's  when  'er  time  be  on  'er.  And  lips  all 
bit.  And  there  they  do  go  with  the  backache  on 
'em.  Pitiful,  I  call  it.  Draggin'  their  wold  raggy 
skirts.  And  the  baby  crying.  And  little  Dick  with 
'is  nose  all  bloody,  fallen  in  the  grate.  And  little 
Sairey  fell  in  the  yard,  and  'ad  'er  'air  mucked. 
Ah!     Ugh!     It  go  to  my  'eart. 

nan.  Ah,  but  that  ben't  the  all  of  love,  Mr.  Dick. 
It  be  'ard  to  see  beauty  gone,  and  joy  gone,  and  a 
light  'eart  broke.  But  it  be  wonderful  for  to  'ave 
little  ones.  To  'ave  brought  life  into  the  world. 
To  'ave  'ad  them  little  live  things  knocking  on  your 
'eart,  all  them  months.  And  then  to  feed  them. 
'Elpless  like  that. 

dick.  They  be  pretty,  little  ones  be,  when  they 
be  kept  clean  and  that.  I  likes  'earing  them  sing 
'imns.  I  likes  watching  the  little  boys  zwimming 
in  the  river.     They  be  so  white  and  swift,  washing 

30 


act  ii]  THE   TRAGEDY    OF    NAN 

themselves.  And  the  splashin'  do  shine  zo.  Dia- 
monds.    'Oo  be  coming  'ere  to-night — 'sides  us? 

nan.     Old  Gaffer  Pearce  be  a-comin'  to  fiddle. 

dick.  He'd  ought  to  be  in  mad'ouse,  Gaffer 
did.  Dotty  owd  gape.  He  ben't  wholly  stalwart  in 
uns  brains,  folk  do  observe.     But — 

nan.     He  been  a  beautiful  fiddler. 

dick.     He  been  a  wonder,  that  old  man  'ave. 

nan.  'E  play  wonderful  still,  when  'e  gets  think- 
ing of  old  times,  and  of  'is  girl  as  'e  calls  'er.  Why, 
she've  been  dead  fifty  years  and  more. 

dick.  She  was  beautiful.  They  call  'er  the  Star 
of  the  West.  My  dad  'ave  tell  of  'er.  She  'ad  a 
face  like  cream. 

nan.  He  made  beautiful  poems  to  'er;  and  music, 
'e  did.  I  'eard  'im  sing  'is  poems  once.  He  was 
fiddlin'  quiet-like,  all  the  time  'e  were  a-singing; 
and  the  tears  standing  in  'is  eyes.  'E's  never  been 
quite  right  since  the  Lord  'ad  mercy  on  'er. 

dick.     'Oo  else's  comin'    'sides  Gaffer? 

nan.  Tommy  and  Artie.  What  a  'andsome  boy 
Artie  be  grown. 

dick.  Ah  ?  I  'ear  'em  »ay  that.  I  couldn't  ever 
see  it. 

nan.  He  be  just  like  his  mother.  Black  and 
comely. 

dick.  I  likes  a  good  black.  I  likes  a  good  brown, 
a  good  bay  brown.  I  likes  a  good  black  too.  There 
be  bright  blacks  and  there  be  dull  blacks.  Now 
what  be  the  black  as  I  likes?  Your  'air  is  jest  the 
very  colour.     Beautiful  I  call  it. 

nan.  {getting  up)  If  you  ben't  going  to  'ave 
more  zidcr  I'll  take  your  mug,  Mr.  Dick.  Mr. 
Dick. 

dick.     Yes. 

nan.     We've   'ad   a   sheep   die   on   us   last  week. 

31 


THE    TRAGEDY    OF    NAN  [act  n 

Don't  you  'ave  none  of  our  'ot  mutton  pies  to- 
night. 

dick.  Ah  ?  I  'ope  you'll  give  me  twice  of  trotters, 
instead  like,  I  can  do  with  a  trotter,  I  can.  I  s'pose 
us  be  going  to  'ave  great  times  'ere  to-night,  Miss 
Nan. 

nan.  Yes,  indeed.  Us'll  dance  the  moon  down 
to-night. 

dick.     I  s'pose  you  be  a  girt  lady  to  dance? 

nan.  I've  not  dance  now,  for  more'n  a  year,  Mr. 
Dick. 

dick.  I  s'pose  you  'ad  dancings  when  you  were 
to  'ome. 

nan.  Us  used  to  dance  on  our  doorsteps  at  'ome. 
There  was  an  old  man  used  to  fiddle  to  us.  Every 
night  there  was  a  moon,  we  danced.  The  girls 
would  dance  in  their  pattens.  They  used  to  go 
clack,  clack,  their  feet  did.  You'd  a  thought  it  was 
drums,  Mr.  Dick. 

dick.     I  wish  I'd  bin  there  to  'ave  dance  with  vou. 

nan.  And  then  we  used  to  sing  "Joan  to  the 
Maypole"  and  "Randal"  and  all  the  old  songs. 
And  there'd  be  beetles  a  buzzin'.  And  sometimes 
one  of  the  shepherds  come  with  'is  flute.  It  was 
nice  at  'ome,  then. 

dick.  What  times  us  be  'avin'  since  you  come 
'ere.  It  be  always  sad  to  leave  'ome.  But  I  s'pose 
you'll  be  going  back  afore  long.  Your  dad  and  your 
mother'll  be  a-wanting  you.     Sure  to  be. 

nan.     They  be  dead,  Mr.  Dick. 

dick.  Now,  be  they  indeed!  Mrs.  Pargetter  do 
talk's  though  you  'ad  both  your  folk. 

nan.  Mrs.  Pargetter!  She  has  'er  reasons,  Mr. 
Dick,  for  letting  folk  think  that. 

dick.  What  reasons  can  'er  'ave  for  that,  Miss 
Nan? 

32 


act  ii]  THE   TRAGEDY    OF    NAN 


nan.     Some  day,  per'aps  I'll  tell  you  'er  reasons. 
Now  let  I  take  your  coat  and  that. 

(She  takes  coat,  hat,  etc.  and  puts  them  in  inner 
room.     Then  RE-ENTERS) 

dick.     'Ow  brave  you  be  a-looking,  Miss  Nan. 
Soap  and  water  tells,  they  do  say. 
You  be  all  roses,  Miss  Nan.     And  you  be 


NAN. 
DICK. 

all  lilies 

NAN. 

DICK. 

NAN. 

DICK. 

NAN. 

DICK. 

NAN. 

DICK. 

NAN. 

rose! 

DICK. 


Why,  Mr.  Dick!     You  be  quite  the  courtier. 

Ah!     (producing  a  rose)     Miss  Nan? 
Yes? 

I  brought  a  rose — 
For  Jenny,  Mr.  Dick? 

No,  for  'ee.     Will  'ee  wear  it,  Miss  Nan? 
Yes,  if  you'll  give  it  to  me. 

'Ere  it  be.     Will  'ee  say  thank  you  for  it? 
Thank  you,  Mr.  Dick.     What  a  beautiful 


'Er  be  red. 


'Er  be  a  Campden  Wonder. 
Like  love.     Love  be  red.     Like  roses. 

nan.     Oh! 

dick.  I  see  that  rose  growing,  Miss  Nan — an'  I — 
I  thought  'er'd  look  beautiful  if — if — if  you  were 
wearing 

NAN. 

dick.  You  put  'er  to  the  blush,  Miss  Nan — Miss 
Nan — 

NAN. 

DICK. 

NAN. 

DICK. 

NAN. 

DICK. 


'er'd  look  beautiful   if — if — if 
of  'er,  like. 
Well,  I  hope  it  does. 
You  put  'er  to  the  blush,  Miss  Nan- 


Yes? 

Will  you  do  I  a  favour? 

What  is  it? 

Will  'ee  wear  that  rose  in  your  hair? 

In  my  hair,  Mr.  Dick!     Why? 

I  'ad  a  dream  once  of  you  with  roses  in 
your  hair. 

nan.     (putting  rose  in  her  hair)     In  the  old  times 
women  always  put  roses  in  their  hair.     When  they 

33 


THE   TRAGEDY    OF    NANactiij 

danced,  they  wore  roses  in  their  hair.  The  rose- 
leaves  fell  all  about  'en,  my  mother  told  me. 

dick.  It  looks  like  it  were  growing  out  of  your 
'ed. 

nan.     I  must  light  the  lamp. 

dick.     No,  don't  'ee.    Don't  'ee. 

nan.  (striking  a  match)  They  must  have  looked 
beautiful,  those  women  must,  in  the  old  time.  There 
was  songs  made  of  them.  Beauty  be  a  girt  gift,  Mr. 
Dick. 

dick.     It  be  wonderful  in  a  woman. 

nan.     It  makes  a  woman  like  God,  Mr.  Dick. 

dick.     You  be  beautiful,  Nan;  you  be  beautiful. 

nan.     Ah,  Mr.  Dick. 

dick.  You  be  beautiful.  You  be  like  a  fairy. 
The  rose.     You  be  beautiful  like  in  my  dream. 

nan.     Ah!      Let  go  my  hands.     Let  go  my  hands. 

dick.  You  be  beautiful.  Your  eyes.  And  your 
face  so  pale.  And  your  hair  with  the  rose.  O  Nan, 
you  be  lovely.     You  be  lovely! 

nan.     O  don't!     Don't! 

dick.     My  love,  my  beloved. 

NAN.     Ah ! 

dick.     I  love  you,  O  Nan,  I  love  you. 

nan.     Let  me  go:  let  me  go,  please. 

dick.     Do 'ee  care  for  me ?    Do 'ee  love  me, Nan? 

nan.  You  don't  know!  You  don't  know!  You 
don't  know  about  me. 

dick.     I  love  you. 

nan.     Ah!     You  mustn't.     You  mustn't  love  me. 

dick.  There  be  no  high  queen  'as  a  beauty  like 
yours,  Nan. 

nan.     O!    let  me  go. 

dick.     My  love!     My  'andsome! 

nan.     O!    Dick. 

dick.     Nan,  O  Nan,  do  'ee  love  me? 

34 


act  ii]  THE   TRAGEDY    OF    NAN 

NAN.     Ah ! 

dick.  Dear  sweet.  Will  'ee  marry  me?  Do  'ee 
love  me? 

nan.     I  love  you,  Dick. 

dick.     My  love!     My  pretty! 

nan.     My  dear  love. 

dick.  My  beautiful.  I'll  make  a  song  for  you, 
my  beautiful. 

NAN.     Your  loving  me,  that's  song  enough. 

dick.  Nan,  dear,  let  I  take  the  pins  out  of  your 
hair.  Let  me  'ave  your  'air  all  loose.  Your  lovely 
hair.     O  Nan,  you  be  a  beautiful  woman. 

nan.     Ah,  God!     I  wish  I  were  beautiful. 

dick.     Dear  love,  you  be. 

nan.  More  beautiful.  Then  I'd  'ave  more  to 
give  you. 

dick.     Kiss  me.     Kiss  me! 

nan.  There  be  my  'air,  Dick.  It  ben't  much, 
after  all. 

dick,  (kissing  the  hair)  Oh,  beautiful.  Beau- 
fi-vul.     My  own  Nan. 

NAN.     I  am  yours,  my  beloved. 

dick.  When  shall  us  be  married?  When  shall 
us  come  together? 

nan.  Ah,  my  love!  Now  is  enough.  Now  is 
enough. 

dick.     When  shall  us  marry? 

nan.     Kiss  me. 

dick.     Shall  it  be  Michaelmas? 

nan.     Kiss  me.     Kiss  me. 

dick.     My  winsome.     My  beauty. 

nan.  Now  loose  me,  darling.  {They  break)  I 
have  had  my  moment.     I  have  been  happy. 

dick.     Nan!     Nan! 

nan.  I  cannot  marry  you.  O  Dick,  'ee  must  go 
away.     Go    away.     (He    goes    toward    her)     Don't 

35 


THE   TRAGEDY    OF    NAN  [act  n 

'ee.  Us  can  never  marry.  You'd  'ate  me  if  you 
knew.  I  can't  tell  you.  Not  to-night,  dear.  They'll 
be  coming  down  directly.  If  I  married  you,  Dick? 
Oh,  I  can't.  I  can't — if  I  married  you — if  we  lived 
'ere — I  might  bring  shame  upon  you.  They'd  call 
names  after  me.     They'd  know.     They'd  know. 

dick.     My  pretty!     My  Nan.     Tell  thy   Dick. 

nan.  Ah,  no,  no.  Don't  touch  me.  You  don't 
know  yet.  I'm — not  a  fit — I'm  not  a  fit  woman  for 
you  to  marry,  Dick.  My  father.  My  poor  dad — 
(she  breaks  down)  O  Dick!  O  Dick!  You  don't 
know  what  sorrows  I  gone  through.  I  think  my 
'eart'll  break. 

dick.  There,  there,  Nan.  Tell  thy  Dick.  My 
poor  dearie.     You  be  my  dear  love  now,  Nan. 

nan.  If  you  love  me,  Dick — O,  my  love!  Us 
together!  Us  needn't  fear  what  they  say.  Us 
could  go  away,  Dick.  To  America.  Us'd  be  'appy 
there.  O  Dick,  take  me  out  of  this.  All  we  'ave 
is  our  lives,  Dick.  With  love,  us'd  never  want. 
Us'd  'ave  that,  my  love.     Take  me,  Dick. 

dick.  I'll  take  you,  darling.  To-night.  To-night 
I'll  tell  them. 

nan.     In  spite  of — even  if — what  I  'ave  to  say? 

dick.  No  matter  what  it  is,  dear.  To-night,  now. 
To-night.     When  the  fiddler  comes. 

nan.     Ah!  my  beloved! 

dick.  I'll  claim  you.  Before  them  all,  I'll  claim 
you. 

nan.     Your  wife,  my  blessed. 

dick.     Kiss  me,  once  more,  dear. 

nan.     Before  they  come. 

(Outside  the  door  there  is  a  shuffling  and  giggling) 

a  voice.     They  be  in.     I  hear  'em. 

a  voice.     They  ben't. 

a  voice.    Don't  Artie.     (Togetlier,  rapidly) 

36 


act  n  ]  T  H  E   TRAGEDY    OF    NAN 


A  voice.     Sh! 

a  voice.     All  together. 

a  voice.     One  after  the  other. 

dick.     Here  they  are. 

nan.     My  beloved!     My  own. 

voices.     "Joan,  to  the   maypole  away  let   us   on 
The  time  is  short  and  will  be  gone — " 

{They  stop  and  giggle) 

another.     They  ben't. 

{One  hums  the  tune) 

dick.     To-night.     Before    them    all.     When    the 
fiddle  begins.  My  wife. 

nan.     My  husband. 

voices.     "Where    your    beauties    may  be    seen" 
Bang!     Bang!     Bang! 

{They    knock    the    door.     The    LOVERS    break. 

Mrs.  Par  getter  and  Jenny  run  downstairs  as  NAN 

flings    the    door    open.     ENTER    OLD    GAFFER 

PEARCE,  ARTIE  of  that  ilk,  TOMMY  ARKER 

and  TWO  GIRLS) 

mrs.  p.  'Ere  you  be.  'Ow  nice  it  is  to  see  you. 
{She  kisses  the  girls  and  looks  hard  at  NAN) 

jenny.  {To  DICK)  Ah,  Mr.  Gurvil.  'Ave  you 
brought  I  the  rose  as  you  promised? 

dick.     You  don't  want  no  roses. 

jenny.     You  ain't  very  polite,  Mr.  Dick. 

dick.     You  got  roses  in  your  cheeks,  you  'ave. 

mrs.  p.     'Ow  be  you,  gaffer? 

{General  salutation) 

artie.  Granfer  doan't  'ear  you,  unless  you  'it 
'im.     {shouts  in  his  ear)     'Ow  be  you,  granfer? 

gaffer,  {looking  at  NAN)  Twice  I  seen  her, 
twice.  Her've  gone  by  on  the  road.  With  a  rose 
in  'er  'air.  And  'er  eyes  shone.  Twice.  In 
April. 

artie.     'Ere,gaf!er!    Sit  down 'ere.     'E  can  fiddle 

37 


THE   TRAGEDY    OF    NAN  [act  n 

still,  th'owd  granfer  do;  but  'e  doan't  talk,  not  to 
strangers. 

a  girl.  Us  seed  some  strangers  in  the  village, 
Mrs.  Pargetter. 

MRS.  P.     Ah? 

tom.  They  were  askin'  where  your  'ouse  was. 
Them  and  parson. 

artie.     'Ave  you  been  a-robbin',  Mrs.  Pargetter? 

mrs.  par.  A-robbin'!  No.  I  'ave  enough  of 
thieves  without  me  going  stealin',  I  'ope. 

artie.     Well.     One  of  'em  be  a  runner,  'e  be. 

dick     Yes,  for  I  seed  'en  too. 

mrs.  p.  O!  So  you  didn't  come  with  th'  others, 
then,  Dick? 

dick.     Noa.    But  I  seen  'en. 

all.     I  wonder  whatever  they  do  want! 

mrs.  par.  Well.  If  they're  coming  'ere,  us  shall 
soon  know.  I  should  a-thought  the  pleece  could  a- 
caught  their  own  thieves. 

(OLD  PARGETTER  comes  downstairs,  button- 
ing his  waistcoat) 

mr.  p.     Aha!     Aha! 

all.     'Ow  be  you,  Mr.  Pargetter? 

mr.  par.  (saluting)  Why,  'ow  beautiful  all  you 
girls  be  looking!  'Ullo,  Dick!  You  be  quite  the 
bridegroom.  Why  gaffer,  what  a  old  Pocahontas 
you  be,  to  be  sure!     'Ave  you  brought  your  fiddle? 

gaffer,  (still  staring  at  NAN)  'Oo  be  her? 
On  the  roads,  shining,  I've  seen  'er.  Scattering 
blossoms,  blossoms. 

jenny,  (after  glancing  at  GAFFER)  So  you 
come  'ere  early,  Dick.  Why  Nan,  do  look.  You 
'aven't  a-done  your  'air.     Look,  mother,  at  Nan's  'air! 

mrs.  par.  What  in  the  name  of  Fate  d'you  'ave 
that  rose  in  your  'air  for?  Any  why  d'yer  come 
down  with  your  'air  like  that? 

33 


act  ii]  THE   TRAGEDY    OF   NAN 

nan.  I  had  to  open  the  door.  I  had  to  light  the 
candle. 

gaiter.  Give  I  a  cup  of  red  wine  and  a  cup  of 
white  wine,  and  honey  (coming  towards  her)  and  a 
apple  and  a — I  be  goin'  to  fiddle  joy  to  the  feet  of 
the  bride. 

artie.  You  be  going  to  do  wonders,  you  be. 
Sit  down,  you  old  stupe.     Ain't  no  bride  'ere. 

mr.  p.  (to  the  GIRLS)  There  be  brides  for  us 
all.  With  all  you  lovely  young  things.  Nothing 
like  'aving  a  sweet'eart.  Now!  You  ladies,  you'll 
want    to    take    off    your  things. 

artie.     'Ow  about  us? 

mr.  par.  One  sect  at  a  time.  Like  the  sheep 
goin'  through  a  'edge.  Per'aps  you  ladies'll  go  up- 
stairs with  Nan  and  Jenny  'ere. 

nan.     Come,  Ellen. 

jenny.     'Ere!     Give  I  your  brolly. 

(The  GIRLS  go  upstairs) 

mr.  par.  Now,  you  gentlemen.  Come  on  in 
'ere  with  me.     (Lie  leads  them  to  the  inner  room) 

mrs.  par.     (as  DICK  follows)     Oh,  Dick. 

dick.     Ess,  Mrs.  Pargetter. 

mrs.  par.  I  see  you  'ave  your  things  off.  Just 
'elp  me  a  moment,  there's  a  good  lad. 

dick.  Ess,  Mrs.  Pargetter.  What  do  'e  want 
done? 

mrs.  par.  Us  must  'ave  all  clear  for  dancing. 
I'll  nip  them  candles  over  'ere  to  the  dresser.  There. 
Now  'elp  me  lift  the  table  over.  There!  You  was 
'ere  early,  wasn't  yer,  Dick? 

dick.  Nothin'  to  speak  of.  'Ow  about  them 
chairs? 

mrs.  par.  They'll  do  nicely.  I  suppose  Nan 
let  you  in? 

dick.     Ess.  Miss  Nan  done. 

39 


THE   TRAGEDY    OF    NAN  [act  n 

mrs.  par.    You  two  been  'aving  a  fine  game,  I  know. 

dick.    Ah  ? 

mrs.  par.  Don't  tell  me  you  'aven't.  Did  she 
kiss  yer? 

dick,     {sullenly)     Never  you  mind. 

mrs.  par.  Oh,  I  don't  mind.  But  I  got  eyes, 
I  'ave. 

dick.     Oh!     What  good  'ave  they  done  yer? 

mrs.  par.  O,  when  I  see  a  girl  with  'er  face  all 
flushed,  and  'er  'air  all  'anging  down,  and  a  rose 
stuck  over  'er  ear,  and  a  young  man  by  'er  as  flus- 
tered as  what  you  are — Well — I  can — 

dick.     What  can  you  ? 

mrs.  par.  Well,  I  know  they  don't  come  like  that 
of  their  own. 

dick,     {sullenly)     Do  you? 

mrs.  par.     I  ain't  blaming  yer,  mind. 

dick.     Aren't  yer  ? 

mrs.  par.  I  know  what  it  is  to  be  young,  myself. 
But  all  the  same — 

dick.     What  ? 

mrs.  par.     Oh,  nothing. 

dick.     What  were  you  going  to  say? 

mrs.  PAR.     Nothing. 

dick.     You  were  going  to  say  something. 

mrs.  par.  No,  I  weren't.  Only  it  mid  seem 
strange.     You  see,  your  dad's  so  partikler. 

dick.     Oh!     'Im. 

mrs.  par.  'As  'e  took  you  in  'is  partner  yet? 
Your  dad? 

dick.     No. 

mrs.  par.  No,  I  know  'e  'aven't.  I  could  tell 
yer  something.     A  little  surprise — about  your  dad. 

dick.     What's  that? 

mrs.  par.  Somethin'  'e  said  to  me.  I  don't 
know  as  I've  a  right  to  tell  yer. 

40 


act  ii]  THE    TRAGEDY    OF    NAN 

dick.     About  my  being  took  in  as  partner  to  'im  ? 

mrs.  par.  It  was  meant  as  a  secret.  But  there 
— since — us  can  'ave  no  secrets,  can  us? 

dick.     Why,  no — I'm — 

mrs.  par.  Well — your  dad  says  to  me,  "Mrs. 
Pargetter"  'e  says,  "I'm  gettin'  to  be  a  old  man, 
I  want  to  see  my  boy  settled.  Now  then",  'e  says. 
"The  day  my  boy  marries  I  'ave  'im  bound  my  part- 
ner.    And  £20  to  'elp  'im  furnish". 

dick.  Good  iron!  A  old  chanti-cleer.  Balm 
in  Gilead,  as  the  saying  is. 

mrs.  par.  "Yes",  I  says,  "And  more  no  mother 
could  ask",  (change  of  voice)  That  girl'd  forsake 
'er  'eavenly  crown  for  you,  Dick.  She's  drooped 
like  a  lily  of  the  vale  since  she's  been  away.  If  you'd 
seen  that  girl  as  I  seen  'er,  you'd  'ave  yourself  arst 
this  Sunday.  Or  you'll  'ave  'er  goin'  into  a  decline. 
'Ave  you  arst  'er  yet? 

dick.  Yes.  I  arst  'er  just  now.  Just  this  minute 
ago. 

mrs.  par.     When  she  was  at  the  door  'ere? 

dick.     When  I  come  in. 

mrs.  par.  Wot  did  she  say,  I  wonder?  No 
tellin',  I  suppose? 

dick.  I  thought  as  you'd  seen.  I  mean,  from 
what  you  said. 

mrs.  par.     No.     I  never  seed. 

dick.  From  'er  'avin'  'er  'air  down.  The  rose 
and  that. 

mrs.  par.  'Air  down?  She  'adn't  'er  'air  down. 
I  done  it  myself. 

dick.  Yes,  she  'ad  'er  'air  down.  You  said — 
just  now — 

mrs.  par.     Jenny  'ad? 

dick.     No,  Nan. 

mrs.  par.     Nan:     wot's  she  got  to  do  with  it? 

41 


THE   TRAGEDY    OF    NAN  [act  n 

dick.  I've  just  arst  'er  to  marry  me,  Mrs.  Par- 
getter.  And  her  'ave  said  yes.  (a  pause)  It'll 
be  nice  bein'  a  partner  and  that,  won't  it.  I'll  be 
able  to  'ave  the  trap  of  a  evenin'.  And  I'll  'ave  money 
for— 

mrs.  par.  (grimly)  You  be  'is  partner!  You'll 
be  your  dad's  partner  if  you  marry  Jenny — that's 
your  dad's  arrangement.     That's  wot  'e's  planned. 

dick    My  dad  'ave  planned — 

mrs.  par.  "'E  shall  marry  as  I  choose",  'e 
says,  "my  son  shall.  If  'e  don't  know  which  side 
'is  bread  is  buttered,  there's  the  door.  'E  can 
beg." 

dick.     'E  can  beg! 

mrs.  par.  "Not  a  penny  will  'e  ever  'ave  from 
me",  'e  says.     Now. 

dick.    So! 

(MRS.  PARGETTER  watches  him) 

mrs.  par.  D'you  think  we'd  let  you  throw  Jen- 
ny over,  after  getting  'er  talked  about? 

dick.  It  be  different  'avin'  a  kiss  or  two  of  a  girl 
and  wantin'  to  marry  'er. 

(RE-ENTER  PARGETTER  slowly,  looking  hard 
at  DICK  who  is  very  white.  He  walks  to  the 
dresser,  picks  up  a  corkscrew,  and  walks  slowly  out, 
looking  hard  at  DICK  but  saying  nothing) 

mrs.  par.     Now  then. 

dick,  (moistening  his  lips)  Per'aps  my  father'll 
'ear  me  explain. 

mrs.  par.     Wot'll  you  tell  'im? 

dick.  Tell  'im  as  Jenny  ain't  no  more  to  me  'n 
what  a  pig's  milt  is.  Tell  'im  as  I  love  Nan.  And 
as  I  be  goin'  to  marry  'er. 

mrs.  par.  (slowly  and  grimly)  You'll  tell  'im 
for  instans,  you'll  tell  your  father,  for  instans,  as 
you're  goin'  to  marry  a  girl  whose  dad  was  'ung  at 

42 


actiiJTHE   TRAGEDY    OF   NAN 

Glorster,  like  the  thief  'e  was.     Just  afore  last  Christ- 
mas. 

dick.     Nan's  dad  wos? 

mrs.  par.  (nods  her  head)  And  'er  mother  'ad 
men  come  to  see  'er.  (a  pause)  'Ovv'll  yer  tell 
that  to  yer  dad? 

dick.  My  Lord  Almighty!  Daughter  of  one  of 
them! 

MRS.  par.     Two  of  them. 

dick.     My  'oly  Saviour! 

mrs.  par.  Your  'art  out  of  your  bosom  like  a 
engine  it  does  go. 

dick.     I'll  marry  'er  yet  to  spite  yer. 

mrs.  par.  Wot'll  yer  marry  'er  on?  You  ain't 
got  a  penny.  She  ain't  got  a  penny,  (a  pause)  I 
wonder  she  never  told  yer  about  'er  dad's  being  'ung. 
They  'ad  yeomanry  in  front  of  the  gaol.  Quite  an 
affair.     Didn't  she  never  tell  yer? 

dick.     No.     'Er  was  going  to.     My!     Oh  my 

mrs.  par.  Per'aps  she  waited  till  she  'ooked  yer. 
'Ark  at  'em  in  there! 

(Laughter  inside  and  one  crows  like  a  cock) 
She  is  artful.     I  never  see  a  deeper  girl  than  wot 
she  is. 

dick.  Oh,  'old  yer  tongue,  you  old  devil!  I've 
'ad  my  gruel. 

mrs.  par.     Come,  come.     Be  a  man. 

dick.  Mrs.  Pargetter.  I  mean,  I'm — Mrs.  Par- 
getter — 

mrs.  par.     Yes?     Wot? 

dick.     I  dunno — I  dunno  wot  to  think. 

mrs.  par.     Your  dad'll  know  wot  to  think. 

dick.     I  dunno!     If  I 'ad  a  little  of  my  own! 

mrs.  par.  Oh,  if  yer  like  to  starve,  starve.  Walk. 
Pad  yer  'oof. 

dick.     Ah!     A  tramper!     My  'eavenly  King! 

43 


THE   TRAGEDY    OF   NAN  [act  n 

mrs.  par.  Lots  on  'em  pass  'ere.  Dirt  on  'em. 
Feet  comin'  through  their  boots.  You  see  'em  nick 
crusts  out  of  the  gutter.  Berries  of  a  'edge,  some 
on  'em.  Froze  stiff,  some  on  'em,  under  a  rick- 
Lots  on  'em. 

dick.     Ah!     Don't!     I  can't!     (a  pause) 

mrs.  par.  Well,  Dick?  Wot's  it  to  be?  Is  it 
Jenny? 

dick.  O  damn  it,  yes,  it's  Jenny,  Jenny.  Like 
'avin'  a  cold  poultice!  Very  well,  it's  Jenny  then. 
Now  I  'ope  yer  satisfied. 

mrs.  par.  (kissing  him)  There.  /  knew  yer 
wouldn't  act  dishonourable.     I  knowed  you  better. 

(The  door  opens,  the  men  come  in,  singing  and 
laughing.  ARTIE  PEARCE  crows  like  a  cock. 
The  GIRLS  come  down,  hearing  the  noise)  Wot  a 
time  you  people  'ave  been. 

mr.  par.     Wot  'a  you  been  doin'  all  the  time? 

artie.     (singing)      Making  love  in  the  evenin' 

Making  love  in  the  evenin' 
A  drop  of  zider  sets  one  up  like  (wiping  his  mouth) 

mrs.  par.  (to  Pargetter)  You'll  'ear  later. 
All  in  good  time.  'Ere  Jenny,  'elp  me  with  these 
chairs!  Eve  watched  it  all  right.  Dick  and  you 
I  mean.     It's  settled. 

jenny,  (with  a  chair)  Give  I  that  one,  Mother. 
O  Mother,  wot  fun  us  shall  'ave. 

mr.  par.     Now  us  be  goin'  to  'ave  a  dance. 

a  girl    Be  you  a-goin'  to  dance,  Mr.  Pargetter? 

mr.  par.  Course  I  be.  Come,  gaffer.  Out  with 
that  fiddle  o'  yourn. 

a  girl.     I  do  love  a  fiddle. 

jenny.     A  barrel  hargin  be  good,  too. 

mr.  par.  Now,  gaffer.  Now,  no  long  faces, 
anybody.     Us  be  goin'  to  'ave  great  times,  ben't  us? 

nan.     Wait  till  I  set  thy  chair  right,  gaffer. 

44 


act  ii]  THE    TRAGEDY    OF    NAN 

gaffer,  {querulously)  On  the  roads,  I  seen  you. 
Surely.     And  it  was  all — all  a-blowing? 

nan.     Sit  'ere,  now.     And  'ave  this  cushion. 

artie.  Don't  let  granfer  fall  into  the  fire.  'E 
will,  if  you  don't  watch  it. 

gaffer,  {bowing  in  the  old  style)  Beauty  makes 
women  be  proud.  There  be  few  beauties  'as  the 
'umbleness  to  'elp  a  old  man.  Ah,  there  be  no 
pleasure  for  the  old;  but  to  'muse  the  young.  I  be 
a  old  man.     A  old,  old  man! 

nan.  The  old  be  wise,  gaffer.  The  old  'ave 
peace,  after  their  walking  the  world. 

MRS.  par.     Stuff!     {a  giggle) 

gaffer.  There  be  no  peace  to  'im  as  sees  you, 
goin'  by  in  beauty,  puttin'  fire  to  'em. 

girls.     Us  be  waitin'.     Us  be  all  ready! 

mr.  par.     Take  your — 

gaffer,  {to  NAN)  What  tune  will  the  bride  'ave ? 
A  ring  of  bells  and  the  maids  flinging  flowers  at  'er. 
Like  me  and  my  girl  'ad.  {pause)  I  'ad  a  flower  of 
'er  to  go  to  church  with,  {pause)  They  put  my 
flower  under  the  mould  after,  {pause)  I  'eard  the 
mould  go  knock!  {he  tunes  his  fiddle  as  he  speaks) 
No  one  remembers  my  white  flower,  {pause) 
That's  sixty  year  ago. 

nan.  You'll  meet  her  again,  gaffer.  Per'aps 
she's  by  you  now. 

gaffer,  (with  a  lifting  voice — half  rising)  So 
you've  a  come,  my  'andsome — 

mrs.  par.  'Ere.  {she  taps  GAFFER'S  hand)  Play! 
'Ere!  Fiddle,  (to  NAN)  Don't  you  see  you're 
upsettin'  'im.  Move  away.  One'd  think  you'd 
no  feelings. 

mr.  par.  Take  your  partners. 

mr.  par.     Now,  'ave  you  all  got  your  partners? 

all.     No.     Don't  be  so  silly,  Artie.     Now,  do  be 

45 


THE   TRAGEDY    OF   NAN  [act  n 

quiet.     'Ow  are  us  to  dance!     (etc.  etc.)     You  come 
over  'ere,  by  me. 

(NAN  stands  a  little  apart,  looking  at  DICK, 
waiting  on  him) 

mrs.  par.  Now,  now,  we're  all  'ere.  'Ush  a 
moment.  Afore  we  begin  there's  a  little  bit  o'  noos  just 
'appened,  as  I'd  like  to  say  about. 

artie.     'Ear!     'Ear! 

mr.  par.  (to  ARTIE)  You  be  quiet!  (He grins 
at  ARTIE  approvingly) 

mrs.  par.  As  I'm  sure  '11  come  as  a  great  sur- 
prise. Really,  it  quite  took  my  breath  away!  It 
did,  really.  Now,  I  mustn't  stop  you  young  people 
dancing.  But  I  must  just  tell  you  this  little  bit  of 
noos.     He,  he!     Why — 

artie.     We  ain't  lookin'. 

a  girl.     Be  quiet,  Artie. 

MRS.  par.  Jenny  and  Dick  'ere  'ave  made  a 
match  of  it.  I  'ope  the  present  company'll  wish  the 
'appy  couple  joy!  Dick!  Jenny!  Give  me  your 
'ands.  There.  (She  clasps  them)  I  'ope  you'll 
be  very  'appy  together.  Dick,  (kissing  him)  you're 
my  son  now,  ain't  yer? 

artie.     Spare  'is  blushes,  Mother. 

all.  Why,  who'd  ever  a-thought  it!  I  do  'ope 
you'll  be  'appy.  'Ow  sudden!  Quite  took  my 
breath  away!  Jenny,  come  'ere,  and  let  I  kiss  'ee. 
I  s'pose  us  can't  kiss  you,  Mr.  Dick?  No,  Mr. 
Dick'll  be  quite  the  married  man.  'E  looks  it  al- 
ready. 

nan.  Dick,  Dick,  oh,  Dick!  What,  oh,  Dick, 
you  weren't  playing,  Dick? 

dick.     Don't  Dick  me.     Get  out! 

MRS.  par.     Wot  are  yer  bothering  Dick  for? 

nan.     I    thought    'e'd    something — something    to 
say  to  me. 
46 


act  ii]     THE   TRAGEDY    OF    NAN 

dick.  You  thought  I  was  a  oly  scrawf,  didn't 
yer? 

nan.  I  thought  I  was  a  'appy  woman,  Dick. 
{she  looks  at  him  and  goes  slowly  over  to  a  chair.  As 
she  goes) 

mr.  par.  Now,  Nan.  What  are  you  waitin' 
for?     Take  your  place  'ere  and  dance,  now. 

mrs.  par.     Per'aps  Nan  is  like  'er  father. 

jenny,  {sliding  her  feet  about)  'Ow's  that,  Moth- 
er? 

mrs.  par.     Per'aps  she  can  only  dance  on  air. 

nan.  {going  to  her)  Yes,  yes,  I  am  like  my  fath- 
er.    You  coward  to  say  that. 

mr.  par.  Wot  are  you  thinking  of,  with  com- 
pany present? 

mrs.  par.  You  leave  her  to  me.  I'll  deal  with 
her.  {To  the  company)  She  thought  if  she  'ad  'er 
'air  down  an  'er  neck  un'ooked  as  she  might  'ave  a 
go  in  at  Dick,  'ere. 

tommy.     'Ope  us  didn't  come  too  soon,  Dick. 

jenny.  She  believes  in  giving  all  for  love,  Cousin 
Nan  do. 

MRS.  par.  She'll  give  no  more  in  this  house. 
Why,  'er  dad  was  'ung  for  a  thief  only  last  Christmas. 

mr.  par.  Now,  Mother,  that's — No,  she  deserves 
it.     She  ain't  been  straight. 

all.     Ah. 

nan.  Yes.  I'd  like  you  all  to  know  that.  My 
dad  was  'ung  at  Glorster.  I'd  oughtn't  to  a  shook 
your  'ands  without  I'd  told  you.  I  tried  'ard  to  tell  you, 
Dick.  Dick.  Dick.  I  give  you  all  I  had.  You 
'ad  me.  Like  I  never  was.  Not  to  any.  O  Dick, 
I  'ope  you'll  be  very,  very  'appy. 

dick.  'Ere.  Go  and  say  your  piece  to  Gaffer 
there.  'E  'asn't  many  pleasures,  I've  done  with 
yer.     'Ere,  Jenny,  you  be  goin'  to  dance  with  I. 

47 


THE    TRAGEDY    OF    NAN     [act  n 


jenny,  (giggling)  I  think  I  could  'clp,  Dick 
Gurvil. 

dick.     'Elp  me  then.     Come  on. 

jenny.  Law.  It  make  my  heart  all  of  a  flower. 
That's  wot  Cousin  Nan  says.  I  s'pose  it  must  be 
very  clever  if  'er  says  it. 

nan.  I  wish — I  wish  the  grass  was  over  my 
'ed. 

dick.     'Ere.     Us  wish  to  dance. 

(nan  goes  aside) 

gaffer.  A  bride's  tears  be  zoon  a-dried.  But 
love  be  a  zweet  vlower.  A  girt  red  vlower.  Her 
do  last  for  ever.  For  ever.  (He  plays  "  Joan  to 
the  Maypole")     Like  me  and  my  girl,  for  ever! 

(They  dance) 

CURTAIN 


48 


ACT  III 

(SCENE:— The  same.  NAN  at  table  at  back. 
A  noise  within.    GAFFER  in  his  chair) 

nan.  Life  be  that  bitter.  O  dad,  life  be  that 
bitter. 

gaffer.     You  be  young  to  'ave  life  bitter  on  you. 

nan.     It  isn't  time  makes  us  old. 

gaffer.  Some  on  us  is  glad  to  go  away.  Quite 
early. 

nan.  I  wish  I  could  go  away.  I  wish  I  could 
go  away. 

gaffer.     Us'll  all  be  took  away,  afore  long. 

nan.     I'd  like  to  be  took  away  now. 

gaffer.  I've  a-wanted  to  be  took  away  ever 
since  my  vlower  were  took.  Many  a  long  year. 
And  I  grawed  to  be  a  old,  old  man.  I  were  out  of  work 
sometimes.     And  I  be  old  now.     Very  old. 

nan.     Per'aps  you'll  join  'er  soon,  gaffer. 

Gaffer.  Noa.  Not  for  a  girt  while.  I  'ave  'er 
little  grave.  I  'ave  'er  little  grave  to  see  to.  With 
vlowers  and  that.  If  I  'ad  girt  bags  of  gold  like 
Squire,  I  could  'ave  a  'edstone  put.  I'd  'ave  'er 
little  grave  all  carved.  I'd  'ave  posies  cut.  And 
'er  face  down  on  the  stone.  All  in  white  I'd  'ave  my 
vlower  cut.  White  stone.  There  be  no  kings  'd  'ave 
whiter.  But  I  can't  never  avord  a  'edstone.  So  I 
ben't  goin'  to  die.     Noa.     I  ben't  goin'  to  die. 

49 


THE   TRAGEDY    OF    NAN   [act  in 


nan.  When  love  be  dead,  gaffer,  what  be  there 
else? 

gaffer.  There  be  the  grave.  It  be  all  the  poor 
'as,  just  the  grave.  And  I  got  my  vlower's  grave. 
Eight  maids  in  white  there  was.  No  older  than  my 
vlower  they  was.  And  there  were  all  white  vlowers 
on  'er.  Eight  maids  in  white,  maidy.  And  the 
bell  tolling.  Oh,  my  white  blossom  to  go  under  the 
grass. 

nan.     She  was  very  young  to  be  took,  Gaffer. 

gaffer.  They  was  eight  maids  in  white  when 
they  carried  'er.  Then  they  was  women.  Beauti- 
ful they  were.  Then  they  grew  old.  One  by  one. 
And  then  their  'ouses  were  to  let,  with  the  windows 
broke.  And  grass  and  grass.  They  be  all  gone. 
When  I  be  gone  there'll  be  none  to  tell  the  beauty  of 
my  vlower.  There'll  be  none  as  knows  where  'er 
body  lies.  I  'ave  'er  little  grave  all  done  with  shells. 
And  the  vlowers  that  do  come  up,  they  be  little  words 
from  'er.  Little  zhining  words.  Fifty-nine  year 
them  little  words  come. 

nan.  I  got  a  grave,  too,  gaffer.  And  I  'ave  fifty- 
nine  years  to  come. 

gaffer.  My  bright  'ansome.  Oo  'ave  you  in 
yer  grave? 

nan.  I  'ave  my  'eart  in  the  grave,  gaffer.  But 
there'll  be  no  vlowers  come  up  out  of  'er.  I  shall 
be  'ere  fifty-nine  year  per'aps.  Like  you  been. 
Fifty-nine  year.  Twelve  times  fifty-nine  is — and 
four  times  that.  Three  hundred  and  sixty-five  days 
in  a  year.  Up,  and  work,  and  lie  down  again.  But 
dead,  dead,  dead.  All  the  time  dead.  No.  No. 
Not  that.     Gaffer.     How  did  thy  vlower  die? 

gaffer.  There  come  a  gold  rider  in  the  evening, 
maidy. 

nan.     You  was  by  'er,  Gaffer? 

50 


act  in]   THE   TRAGEDY    OF   NAN 

gaffer.  She  look  out  of  the  window,  my  white 
vlower  done.  She  said,  "The  tide.  The  tide. 
The  tide  coming  up  the  river".  And  a  horn  blew. 
The  gold  rider  blew  a  'orn.  And  she  rose  up,  my 
white  vlower  dene.  And  she  burst  out  a-laughing, 
a-laughing.  And  'er  fell  back,  my  white  vlower 
done.  Gold  'air  on  the  pillow.  And  blood.  Oh, 
blood.     Blood  of  my  girl.     Blood  of  my  vlower. 

nan.     In  your  arms,  gaffer? 

gaffer.  On  my  'eart.  My  white  vlower  lay  on 
my  'eart.  The  tide.  The  tide.  The  tide  coming 
up  the  river. 

nan.  She  was  'appy  to  die  so,  gaffer.  Along  of 
'er  true  love.  You  'ad  the  sweet  of  love  along  of  your 
vlower.  But  them  as  'as  the  sharp  of  love.  Them  as 
never  'as  no  sweet.  O  I  wish  the  tide  was  comin'  up 
over  my  fed,  I  do. 

gaffer.     It  be  full  moon  to-night,  maidy. 

nan.     Full  moon.     It  come  up  misty.     And  red. 

gaffer.     It  was  red  on  the  pillow.     Then. 

nan.     The  harvest-moon. 

gaffer.     There'll  be  a  high  tide  to-night. 

nan.     A  high  tide. 

gaffer.     For  some  on  us. 

NAN.     Why  for  some  on  us,  gaffer? 

gaffer.     The  tide  be  comin'  for  some  on  us. 

nan.     For  you,  gaffer? 

gaffer.  Thcr've  come  no  message  yet  for  me. 
But  the  tide  be  a'comin'  for  some  on  us.  It  'ave 
someone  every  time.  It  'ad  my  vlower  one  time. 
O  it  be  a  gallows  thing,  the  tide.  First  there  be  the 
mud  and  that.  Sand  banks.  Mud  banks.  And 
the  'erons  fishing.  Sand  in  the  river,  afore  the  tide 
comes.  Mud.  The  cows  come  out  o'  pasture  to 
drink.  They  come  on  the  sand.  Red  cows.  But 
they  be  afraid  of  the  tide. 

51 


THE    TRAGEDY    OF    NAN   [act  in 

nan.  They  'aven't  no  grief,  the  beasts  asn't.  Crop- 
ping in  the  meadows  when  the  sun  do  zhine. 

gaffer.  They  be  afraid  of  the  tide.  For  first 
there  come  a-wammerin'  and  a-wammerin'.  Miles 
away  that  wammerin'  be.  In  the  sea.  The  ship- 
men  do  cross  theirselves.  And  it  come  up.  It 
come  nearer.  Wammerin'  Wammerin'!  'Ush  it 
says.  'Ush  it  says.  'Ush  it  says.  And  there  come  a 
girt  wash  of  it  over  the  rock.  White.  White.  Like 
a  bird.  Like  a  swan  a-gettin'  up  out  of  the  pool. 

nan.  Bright  it  goes.  High.  High  up.  Flash- 
ing. 

gaffer.  And  it  wammers  and  it  bubbles.  And 
then  it  spreads.  It  goes  out  like  soldiers.  It  go 
out  into  a  line.  It  curls.  It  curls.  It  go  toppling 
and  toppling.     And  on  it  come.     And  on  it  come. 

nan.    Fast.     Fast. 

A  black  line.     And  the  foam  all  creamin' 
on  it. 

gaffer.  It  be  a  snake.  A  snake.  A  girt  water 
snake  with  its  'ed  up.     Swimming.     On  it  come. 

nan.     A  bright  crown  upon  it.     And  hungry. 

gaffer.  With  a  rush.  With  a  roar.  And  its 
claws  clutchin'  at  you.  Out  they  go  at  the  sides, 
the  claws  do. 

nan.     The  claws  of  the  tide. 

gaffer.  Singing.  Singing.  And  the  sea  a-roar- 
ing  after.  O,  it  takes  them.  They  stand  out  in 
the  river.  And  it  goes  over  them.  Over  them. 
Over  them.     One  roarin'  rush. 

nan.  Deep.  Deep.  Water  in  their  eyes.  Over 
their  hair.     And  to-night  it  be  the  harvest  tide. 

gaffer,  (as  though  waking  from  a  dream)  The 
salmon-fishers  '11  lose  their  nets  to-night. 

The  tide'll  sweep  them  away.     O,  I've 
known  it.     It  takes  the  nets  up  miles.     Miles.    They 
52 


act  in]  THE   TRAGEDY    OF    NAN 

find  'em  high  up.  Beyond  Glorster.  Beyond  'Art- 
pury.  Girt  golden  flag-flowers  over  'em.  And  apple- 
trees  a-gro\vin'  over  'em.  Apples  of  red  and  apples 
of  gold.  They  fall  into  the  water.  The  water  be 
still  there,  where  the  apples  fall.  The  nets  'ave 
apples  in  them. 

nan.     And  fish,  gaffer? 

gaffer.  Strange  fish.  Strange  fish  out  of  the 
sea. 

nan.  Yes.  Strange  fish  indeed,  gaffer.  A  strange 
fish  in  the  nets  to-morrow.  A  dumb  thing.  Knock- 
ing agen  the  bridges.  Something  white.  Some- 
thing white  in  the  water.  They'd  pull  me  out. 
Men  would.  They'd  touch  my  body,  (shuddering) 
I  couldn't.     I  couldn't. 

(Loud  laughter  from  within,  and  a  clatter  of  knives. 

The   door   opens.    ENTER   JENNY  from   inner 

room,  carrying  a  dirty  plate,  with  dirty  knife  and 

fork.    As  JENNY  comes  in,  MRS.  PARGETTER 

is  heard  off) 

mrs.  par.     Is  she  in  there? 

jenny.    Yes. 

MRS.  p.     Tell  'er  to  come  in. 

jenny,     (to  NAN)     You're  to  go  in,  mother  says. 

par.  (heard  off)  'Ere,  shut  that  door  behind 
yer.  It  blows  my  'ed  off.  (JENNY  turns  and 
shuts  the  door) 

nan.    What  'ave  you  got  there,  Jenny  ? 

jenny,     (uneasily)     You're  to  go  in,  mother  says. 

nan.  (rising)  Never  mind  what  mother  says. 
Answer  my  question,  my  friend,  my  girt  friend,  my 
little  creeping  friend.     What  'ave  you  got  there? 

jenny,  (shrinking)  A  mutton  parsty  pie  for 
gaffer,  as  mother  sent.     It'll  be  a  little  treat  for  'im. 

nan.  (looking)  Whose  plate  have  you  brought 
it  on,  my  little  friend? 

53 


THE   TRAGEDY    OF   NAN  [act  in 

jenny,     (stammering)     Mother's  plate. 

nan.  It  is  a  dirty  plate.  And  the  knives  and 
forks  are  dirty. 

jenny,  (confidently)  Gaffer  won't  know  any  dif- 
ferent. It's  good  enough  for  an  old  man  like  'im. 
'Ere,  gaffer.     'Ere's  some  supper  for  yer. 

nan.  (going  up  to  her)  No,  my  friend,  my  girt 
friend,  my  little  Judas  friend,  my  little  pale  snake 
friend.  It's  not  good  enough.  Did  yon  'ave  one  of 
them  pies? 

jenny,     (blustering)     You  can — I  ain't  goin'  to — 

nan.  Did  you?  The  sheep  died.  The  sheep 
died  last  week.     Did  you  eat  one  of  them  pies? 

jenny.  No,  I  know  what  the  sheep  die  of.  Gaf- 
fer won't  mind.     'Ere,  gaffer. 

nan.  (fiercely)  Sit  down,  my  little  friend.  Sit 
down  and  eat  that  pie  yourself.  Eat  it.  Eat  it  or 
I'll  kill  you.  Eat  it.  You  with  no  charity  to  old  or 
young.  You  shall  eat  the  charity  of  the  uncharitable. 
Eat  it.     You  little  snake.     Eat  it. 

jenny.    I'll — I'll  send  mother  to  you. 

nan.  (preventing  her)  No.  Oh,  no.  (forcing 
her  into  a  chair)  Eat.  Eat.  (JENNY  in  great 
terror  begins  to  eat) 

jenny.     I  be  goin'  to  be  sick. 

nan.     Eat.     (JENNY  eats.     Then  shrinks  back) 

jenny,  (after  a  mouthful)  Wot  are  you  lookin' 
at  me  for? 

nan.     I'm  looking  at  my  friend.     My  friend. 

jenny,  (after  a  mouthful)  I  can't  eat  with  you 
watchin  me. 

nan.  Yes,  Jenny.  It  is  your  bride  cake.  Your 
bride  cake.  Your  bride  cake  for  your  marriage, 
Jenny. 

jenny,  (screaming)  Don't  look  at  me  like 
that. 

54 


act  m]   THE   TRAGEDY    OF   NAN 

nan.  (coming  up  to  her  and  glaring  down  into 
her  face)  Yes,  Jenny.  I  must  look  at  you  like  this. 
I  must  look  into  your  soul,  Jenny.  Into  your  soul. 
(Slowly  and  quietly) 

jenny.     Ah-h. 

nan.  You  'ave  pale  eyes,  Jenny.  Pale  eyes.  I 
can  look  into  your  soui.  D'you  know  what  I  see, 
Jenny?  (a  pause)  I  see  your  soul.  It  is  cold, 
Jenny.  It's  a  little  mean  cold,  lying  thing.  You're 
a  lucky  one,  Jenny.  You  cannot  love  nor  hate.  A 
dog  loves  more  and  hates  more.  A  worm  do. 
D'you  know   what  comes  to  such  souls,  Jenny? 

jenny,     (gasping)     Mother!     Mother! 

nan.  I'll  tell  you,  Jenny.  I'll  tell  your  future 
to  you.  I  see  your  life  very  plain  in  your  pale  eyes. 
I  see  a  girt  town,  with  lamps.  And  I  see  you  in  a 
public  'ouse,  Jenny,  with  red  on  your  white  cheeks. 
And  your  pale  eyes  are  swollen  with  drink.  And 
you've  a  raggy  skirt  And  you  cough.  And  you 
tremble.  That  is  the  pay  in  this  world,  Jenny,  for 
a  little  cold  mean  lying  thing.  And  I  see  a  dirty 
room  with  a  dirty  bed,  and  you  lying  dead  on  it. 
Your  painted  cheeks  on  the  pillow.  Till  the  town 
dead-cart  come.  Out  with  you.  Out  with  you.  Out 
with  you.     (JENN  Y  totters,  gasping,  to  the  door) 

jenny.  Ah.  Ah-h!  (she  leans  up  against  the 
door,  holding  it  by  ihe  latch,  in  terror;  she  is  only 
half  conscious) 

gaffer,  (rousing  and  shading  his  eyes  looking 
up)     Be  you  ready  for  your  journey,  maidy? 

nan.    My  journey. 

gaffer.  You  must  eat  and  drink,  my  'andsome. 
'E  be  coming. 

nan.    Who  be  coming? 

gaffer.  The  gold  rider,  maidy.  'E  be  comin' 
on  the  road. 

55 


THE    TRAGEDY    OF    NAN    [act  in 


nan.  The  gold  rider.  We  will  eat  and  drink, 
gaffer.  It  be  a  long  road  to  go.  {She  opens  oven 
and  brings  out  the  apple-pasty;  then  takes  a  carving 
knife,  and  plate.  Then  the  brandy  bottle.  She  cuts 
the  pasty  and  gives  food  to  GAFFER) 

gaffer,  {rising  unsteadily  and  holding  up  his 
hands)  Bless  this  food  to  thy  service.  Bless  the 
Giver  of  all  good  things.     Amen.     {He  eats.) 

nan.  Amen.  {The  outer  door  is  knocked.  Foot- 
steps outside)  Drink,  gaffer.  {She  gives  him  a 
sup  of  brandy) 

gaffer,  {drinking  to  her)  A  fair  journey.  Vlo- 
wers  on  the  road  afore  you.  O  gold  'oofs.  Gold 
'oofs.     Be  swift.     Swift.      (^4  knocking  at  outer  door) 

a  voice.     Is  anyone  inside  there?     Open. 

nan.  Drink,  gaffer.  {Violent  knocking  outside. 
The  inner  door  is  shaken  by  those  within.  JENNY 
holds  the  latch  and  keeps  them  from  entering) 

jenny.  O!  O!  Don't  let  'er  in  on  me.  Don't 
let  'er  in  on  me.    {Falling  against  the  wall)     Oh,  oh. 

{ENTER  the  PARGETTERS  and  DICK.  The 
others  cluster  at  the  doorway) 

dick,  {seeing  JENNY  and  glad  to  have  NAN 
for  once  in  the  wrong.  Angrily)  Wot  'ave  you  been 
doin'  to  'er?     Eh? 

mrs.  par.  {advancing  on  NAN)  Why  can't 
you  open  the  door?     Standing  staring  there. 

par.     Wot  'ave  she  done  to  you,  Jenny? 

mrs.  par.  {turning)  Never  you  'eed  wot  she's 
done  to  'er.  You  go  and  open  the  door.  'Ere,  Jenny. 
Go  on  inside.     Go  on  now.     Before  they  see  yer. 

dick.  She's— she's— Best  'ave  'cr  locked  up, 
mother. 

mrs.  par.    Open  the  door,  there. 

(JENNY  totters  out) 

MR.  par.    Wot's  brought  'er  into  that  state? 

56 


act  in]  THE    TRAGEDY    OF    NAN 

NAN.  She  has  seen  herself,  uncle.  There's  few 
can  bear  that  sight.     A  worm  in  the  dust  fears  it. 

mrs.  p.  You  don't  mean  to  say  as  you've  cut  the 
parsty. 

par.     'Ush.    They'll  'ear  yer. 

MRS.  P.  (in  a  blood-curdling  voice)  And  look 
at  your  uncle's  bottle.  If  I  don't  give  it  yer  for 
this.     (A  knock) 

a  voice  without.  Come  on.  Come  on.  I've  got 
no  time  to  waste. 

MRS.  p.  (going  to  the  door  with  her  best  society 
smile)  I  didn't  'ear  yer  knock.  Wot  with  comp'ny. 
I  'ope  I  aven't  kep  you  waitin',  I'm  sure,  (peering 
at  visitors)  Good  evenin',  sir.  Will,  fetch  chairs 
for  the  gentlemen.  Why,  it's  Mr.  Drew.  Come 
in,  sir.     Won't  you  please  ter  come  in,  sir. 

drew.    Thank  you. 

(ENTER  PARSON  DREW, CAPTAIN  DIXON 
and  a  CONSTABLE  carrying  a  hand  bag) 

par.     (fetching  chairs)     Good  evenin',  sir. 

drew.     Good  evenin',  Pargetter. 

par.     (to  DIXON)     Good  evenin',  sir. 

dixon.  (coldly  to  CONSTABLE)  Put  that  bag 
on  the  table. 

drew.  Well,  Dick.  Is  that  you,  Ellen  ?  You  grow 
so  fast.    Nan.    Yes.    Yes.    Good  evening,  everybody. 

par.  (in  a  stage  whisper  to  MRS.  PARGETTER) 
'Ave  the  table  cleared. 

dixon.     (irritably)     Never  mind  the  table. 

mrs.  par.  You  must  excuse  things  bein'  a  bit 
untidy,  sir.  Wot  with  'avin  company,  we're  all 
topsy  turvy,  as  you  mid  say.  (suavely  to  NAN) 
Jest  take  that  parsty  off  the  table,  Nan,  there's  a 
good  girl. 

nan.  I've  done  with  make-believes,  Aunt.  One 
makes  believe  too  long. 

57 


THE   TRAGEDY    OF   NAN    [actiii 

mrs.  P.  (to  DREW)  She  loves  a  bit  of  play- 
actin',  sir.     She  do  it  wonderful,  considerin'. 

dixon.     Oh,  Drew.     Drew.     (Irritably) 

mrs.  p.  She's  been  g°vin'  us  a  bit  out  of  Shakes- 
peare as  they  call  it. 

drew.  Yes.  Yes.  Yes.  Now  hush,  please,  a 
moment  everybody.  (EVERYBODY  is  silent) 
(Raising  a  hand)  I'm  afraid  we  come  at  a  very  in- 
convenient time.  But — (seeing  those  in  the  door) 
Oh,  just  come  in  there,  will  you?  Yes.  Yes. 
It's  a  very  pleasant  duty.  It's  not  often  that  I  have 
such  a  pleasure  as  I  have  to-night,  (taking  chair) 
Yes.     Thank  you.     Sit  down,  Mr.  Dixon. 

dixon.     (coldly)     Captain    Dixon. 

drew.  Yes,  yes,  to  be  sure.  Captain  Dixon,  to 
be  sure.  I  beg  your  pardon,  Captain  Dixon.  I'm 
sure  you'll  all  be  very  glad  when  you  hear 
what  it  is  that  makes  us  interrupt  your  evening's 
pleasure. 

dixon.  (tartly)  Excuse  me,  Mr.  Drew.  But 
hadn't  we  better  come  to  business  ? 

drew.     Yes,  yes,  but — 

dixon.  (mildly)  I  shall  miss  the  coach  back  to 
town. 

drew.  O,  no,  no,  no,  no.  O,  no,  no,  no.  Oh, 
you've  ten  minutes  yet.  More.  You've  got  lots 
of  time.  You'll  hear  the  horn  long  before  the 
coach  is  due. 

mrs.  p.  Yes,  sir.  You'll  'ear  the  horn  a  long 
ways  off.     If  it's  the  coach  you  want. 

gaffer.  The  horn.  The  horn.  Gold  hoofs  beat- 
ing on  the  road,  (he  advances  to  the  table)  They 
beat  like  the  ticking  of  a  'eart.  Soon.  Very  soon. 
The   golden   trump. 

mrs.  p.  (angrily)  Could  ever  anything!  (quiet- 
ly) You  old  stupe.  Take  'im  out,  Will.  Don't 
58 


act  in]  THE    TRAGEDY    OF   NAN 


let  'im  begin  in  'ere.  (to  Dixon)  Don't  mind 
'im,  sir.     'E's  silly. 

(GAFFER  goes  to  the  door  and  looks  out  into  the 
moonlight) 

gaffer,  (at  the  door)  Maybe  I'll  meet  'im  on 
the  road. 

(He  goes  oat) 

drew.  One  of  our — You  know,  eh.  (taps  his 
forehead) 

dixon.  (sourly)  I  thought  it  was  another  bit 
out  of  Shakespeare  as  they  call  it. 

par.     Yes,  sir.     'E  talks  very  strange  sometimes. 

drew.     Yes,  yes,  poor  fellow. 

dixon.     I  suppose  this  is  the  right  house? 

drew.     Yes,  of  course.     Yes,  certainly,  certainly. 

dixon.  (taking  bag  and  unlocking  it)  I  thought 
it  might  be  the — the — Yes.  Ye-es.  Very  well, 
then,     (suddenly)     Which  of  you  is  Nan  Hardwick? 

nan.     I  am  that  one. 

dixon.  Ye-es.  You.  Very  well  then.  Is  that 
correct,  Mr.   Drew? 

drew.     Certainly.     Certainly. 

dixon.  Daughter  of  Mary  Hardwick,  and  of — 
of  Edward  Hardwick  who  was — eh? 

nan.     Who  was  hanged  at  Gloucester. 

dixon.  Of  Swanscombe,  in  the  Hundred  of — 
Yes.  Very  well  then,  (turning  to  others)  You 
certify  that  this  is  that  Nan  Hardwick? 

the  others.     Yes,  sir.     That  be   'er. 

dixon.  Very  well,  then.  That's  not  the  horn, 
Drew? 

drew.     O,  no,  no. 

dixon.  (taking  bag  and  papers  out  of  handbag) 
Have  you  a  pen  and  ink  in  the  house? 

Par.  (taking  them  from  the  dresser)  This  is  a 
pen  and  ink,  sir. 

59 


THE   TRAGEDY    OF   NAN   [act  m 

dixon.  Ye-es.  (writes)  This  pen's — Drew,  have 
you  got  a  pen?  (to  MRS.  PAR.)  Give  me  a  pen- 
wiper, (he  wipes,  and  then  mends  pen  with  a  pen- 
knife) Ye-es.  Ye-es.  (sharply)  Nan  Hardwick, 
your  father  was — er — put  to  death  for  stealing  a  sheep 
near  Aston  Magna.  No.  Don't  answer.  That 
is  the  fact.  Ye-es.  Very  well  then.  The  sheep 
was  the  property  of  Mr.  Nicols.  Now  it  has  been 
proved  that  your  father,  Edward  Hardwick,  had 
nothing  to  do  with  that  sheep. 

nan.  And  you  come  here,  do  you,  to  tell  me  that  ? 
You  have  a  thousand  men  beneath  you,  a  thousand 
strong  men  like  the  man  there.  And  you  have 
judges  in  scarlet,  and  lawyers  in  wigs.  And  a  little 
child  out  of  the  road  could  have  told  you  that  my  dad 
was  innocent.  A  little  child  of  the  road.  By  once 
looking  in  his  eyes. 

dixon.  I  can't  go  into  all  that.  You  must  keep  to 
the  point.  (DREW  whispers)  What?  Yes.  Yes. 
I  daresay. 

drew,  (to  NAN)  Let  Captain  Dixon  finish 
what  he's  got  to  say. 

mrs  p.  Where's  yer  manners  gorn?  You  wait 
till  afterwards. 

dixon.  To  continue.  The  sheep  was  stolen  by 
Mr  Nicol's  shepherd,  who  was  the  chief  witness 
against  your  father. 

nan.     The  sheep  was  stolen  by  Richard  Shapland. 

dixon.     (staring  at  her)    Who  has  since  confessed. 

all.  Ah.  Confessed.  Think  of  that.  There 
now. 

dixon.  A  sad  miscarriage  of  justice.  Very  well 
then.  While  we  support  the  laws,  we  must  be  con- 
tent to  suffer  from  their  occasional  misapplication. 
(glances  at  his  watch) 

drew.     Lots  of  time.    Lots  of  time. 

60 


act  in]    THE   TRAGEDY    OF   NAN 

mxon.  Ye-es.  But  in  this  instance,  the  Home 
Office  has  decided  to  offer  you  some  compensation. 

nan.     Some  blood-money.     Thirty  pieces  of  silver. 

dixon.  No.  It's  more.  It's  fifty  pounds,  (he 
empties  bag)  Will  you  count  it  over  please,  before 
signing  the  receipt? 

nan.  No.  No.  The  blood  and  tears  are  sticky 
on  it. 

drew.     She's  upset.     I'll  count  it. 

pak.  (pouring  brandy  for  NAAT)  'Ere,  Nan. 
'Ave  just  a  drop. 

(She  refuses) 

others.  Fifty  pou-und.  Fifty  pou-und.  Did 
you  ever. 

dick,  (muttering)  A  'orse  and  trap.  And  fur- 
nish a  'ouse. 

drew.  Fifty.  Would  you  like  to  count  it  over, 
Pargetter? 

par.     No,  thanky,  sir,  I'm  sure. 

dixon.  (to  NAN)  Are  you  satisfied?  (sharply) 
Nan  Hardwick. 

nan.     What  d'you  want  more? 

dixon.     Are  you  satisfied  that  the  sum  is  correct?  ' 

nan.  Oh.  The  money.  You  know  it  is.  Why 
go  to  all  this  trouble?  Give  me  your  pen.  There. 
There's  my  name  to  your  paper.  Received.  By  me. 
Fifty  pounds  in  gold. 

dixon.  And  the  date.  Ye-es.  I'll  just  add  the 
date,  (to  the  CONSTABLE)  Witness  it,  Horton. 
(the  man  signs.  He  looks  at  Jiis  watch  again)  I 
shall  miss  that  coach. 

drew.  Won't  you  think  better  of  it,  and  stay  the 
night?  Stay,  man,  stay  and  see  the  tide.  It's  a  won- 
derful sight. 

dixon.  No,  thanks.  No,  thanks,  (he  gathers  up 
his  handbag)     Here  you  are,   Horton.     (Gives  him 

61 


THE   TRAGEDY    OF   NAN    [acthi 

bag)     I  hope  the  money  may  be  a  comfort  to  you. 
(to  NAN)     Where  can  I  catch  this  coach? 

mrs  p.  Just  down  the  lane,  sir.  It  is  but  a  step. 
Keep  on  right  down,  sir.     You  can't  miss  it,  sir. 

par.    You'll  'ear  ihe  'arn  go,  sir. 

dixon  and  horton.     Good  night,     (going) 

all.     Good  night,  sir.     Good  night,  Officer. 

dick,  (to  PARGETTER)  Wouldn't  'e  take  a 
drop  of  somethin'  ? 

par.     Noa.     It's  not  for  the  likes  of  us  to  offer. 

dick.    You  can't  ever  tell. 

drew.  I'm  sure  that  what  we  have  just  heard  has 
given  us  all  a  great  deal  of  pleasure.  I  won't  dwell 
on  the  satisfaction  to  yourself,  Nan,  for  fear  of  giving 
you  pain.  But  I  am  sure  that  your  good  aunt,  who 
has  been  so  kind  to  you — 

mrs  p.     No  more  than  my  sacred  dooty,  Mr.  Drew. 

drew,     (gallantly)     I  will  spare  your  blushes,  Mrs. 
Pargetter.     And  all  your  young  friends  who  are  here 
to-night.     I'm  sure  that  they  all  feel  with  me — 
(RE-ENTER  DIXON) 

dixon.  Excuse  me,  Drew.  Do  show  me  the  way 
to  where  the  coach  passes.     These  beastly  lanes  are — 

drew.  Yes.  Yes.  Certainly.  Certainly,  (to 
the  Company)  I  must  wish  you  all  good  night.  So 
sorry  to  have  interrupted  your  evening's  amusement. 

mrs  p.     A  pleasure  I'm  sure,  sir. 

drew,  (to  NAN)  By  the  way,  Nan.  Perhaps 
I  should  say  Miss  Hardwick,  now  you're  an  heiress. 
Mrs.  Drew  would  like  to  see  you  at  the  Rectory  to- 
morrow— She  thinks  you  might  like  to  live  with  us  as 
our  housekeeper. 

dixon.     Come  on.     Come  on. 

drew.  Coming,  Captain  Dixon.  But  we'll  go 
into  that  to-morrow.     Shall  we? 

NAN.     Thank  you,  sir.     I  hope  you'll  thank  Mrs. 
62 


act  in]    THE   TRAGEDY    OF   NAN 

Drew,  too,  sir.  But  I  shall  not  come  to  the  Rectory 
to-morrow.  Unless — Unless  the  fishers  bring  their 
take  to  you.     For  you  to  choose  your  tithe. 

drew,  (puzzled)  Well.  Ah.  Ah  yes.  Well, 
think  it  over.     Sleep  on  it. 

nan.     I  shall  sleep  soundly  on  it. 

drew.  Good  night,  everybody.  Now.  Captain 
Dixon. 

(EXIT) 
(returning)     Mrs  Pargetter! 

mrs  p.  Yes,  sir.  (He  draws  her  aside  and  whis- 
pers, pointing  to  NAN) 

drew,     (in  stage  whisper)     To  bed  at  once. 
(NAN  smiles  bitterly) 

mrs  p.  Yes,  sir.  Pore  thing,  it's  been  too  much 
for  'er.     I  don't  wonder. 

(EXIT  DREW) 

mrs  p.  'E's  gone  at  last,  (to  the  others)  Go  on 
in  back  to  supper.  Us'll  be  with  yer  in  a  minute. 
Shut  the  door.     There's  sech  a  draught. 

(They  go) 

dick.     I'll  fetch  in  Miss  Nan  a  bit  of  supper. 

mrs  p.  It's  a  pity  you  don't  'eed  the  mote  in  yer 
own  eye  without  'eedin'  the  camel  in  yer  neighbour's. 
Go  in  and  sec  to  Jenny. 

par.  Well,  Nan,  it  be  a  long  lane  as  'as  no  turn- 
ing, as  they  say.  I  knew  thy  pore  dad  when  us  was 
boys.  When  us  goe'd  a  nesting  after  ardiestraws. 
Dear,  dear.  'E  won  the  prize  for  kiddy  potatoes, 
and  for  kiddy  beans.  I  be  glad,  that  I  be,  to  'ear — 
wot  we've  'eard  to-night. 

nan.     So  you  are  glad,  are  you?     Glad. 

MRS  p.  If  you  'adn't  a  black  'cart,  you'd  be  glad 
yourself,  I  should  a-thought.  Some  people  a-got  no 
feelin's. 

par.     Fifty  pound  be  a  lot  of  money,  too. 

63 


THE    TRAGEDY    OF    NAN  [act  in 

nan.  The  worth  of  a  man's  life  'ad  need  to  be  a 
lot  of  money. 

par.  There's  two  things  you  could  do  with  all 
that  money.  You  could  put  er  into  the  Bank  and 
that.  Or  you  could — I'd  be  very  glad  to  borrow  it 
of  you,  to  'elp  me  on  the  farm.  And  pay  you  the 
interest,  like. 

nan.     And  if  I'd  refuse.     What  then? 

mrs.  P.  Refuse?  Refuse?  I  don't  doubt 
you  give  yerself  airs.  It's  wot  we'd  expect  of 
yer — 

par.  (interrupting)  I'm  only  asking. — To  keep 
it  in  the  family. 

mrs  p.  (to  PAR.)  Asking?  Givin'  in  to  i'er 
wills  and  'er  won'ts.  Wot's  asking  got  to  do  with  it? 
'Ere.  You're  under  age.  We're  yer  guardians. 
We'll  take  care  of  that  money  for  yer. 

nan.  Yes.  You'll  want  some  money,  for  Jenny's 
portion. 

par.  (controlling  his  temper)  I  'aven't  said 
nothink  yet — 

mrs  p.  No.  You  'aven't  got  the  sperrit  of  a  'og 
with  the  twitters. 

par.     (angrily)     I  don't  want  none  of  yer  jaw. 

mrs  P.  Don't  you  nag  at  me,  for  I  won't  'ave  it. 
See? 

nan.  The  money  is  mine.  Not  yours.  I  have  a 
use  for  it. 

par.  (to  NAN)  Then  I've  done  with  yer.  You 
talk  rude  to  the  quality.  You  give  all  sorts  of  talk 
to — Talk  as  'd  sick  a  savage.  Do  wot  y'  like  with  yer 
money.  But  you'll  make  good  my  Toby  jug,  at 
least.     Now  then. 

nan.     Your  Toby  jug? 

par.     You  know  wot  I  mean. 

nan.    Aha.    The  little  friend.     My  little  friend. 

64 


act  in]  THE    TRAGEDY    OF   NAN 

(a  cry  within)     That's  'er  soul's  voice  that  cry  is.     So 
that  is  wot — 

mrs  p.  And  you  'act  the  cold  blooded  cheek  to  'ave 
your  go  at  the  parsty,  wot's  more. 

par.  And — there — I'll  leave  you  to  your  con- 
science,    (going) 

mrs  p.  Stop  a  moment,  Will.  Us'll  settle  'er  with 
'er,  onst  for  all. 

nan.  (going  to  the  money  bag  and  cutting  its  tape) 
Yes.  We'll  settle.  Look  at  it.  Look  at  it.  (she 
pours  the  gold  into  a  heap)  Gold.  Gold.  Little 
yellow  rounds  of  metal.  Fifty  little  yellow  rounds  of 
metal.  This.  This  is  for  a  man's  life.  Oh,  you 
little  yellow  rounds  that  buy  things.  L^ok  at  'em. 
Hear  'em.  (pause)  Don't  you  speak  to  me.  (in- 
tensely) There  was  a  strong  man,  a  kind  man.  He 
was  forty-nine  years  old.  He  was  the  best  thatcher 
in  the  three  counties.  He  was  the  sweetest  singer. 
Eve  known  teams  goin'  to  the  field  stop  to  'ear  my  dad 
sing.  And  the  red  coats  come.  And  a  liar  swore. 
And  that  strong  man  was  killed.  Sudden.  That 
voice  of  his'n  was  choked  out  with  a  cord.  And 
there  was  liars,  and  thieves,  and  drunken  women,  and 
dirty  gentlemen.  They  all  stood  in  the  cold  to  see 
that  man  choked.  They  stop  up  all  night,  playing 
cards,  so  as  they  should  'ear  'is  singin'  stopped.  For 
it  goes  round  the  voice  the  cord  do.  And  they  draw  a 
nightcap  down  so  as  'e  shan't  see  'is  girl  a-crying. 
(pause)  And  for  that,  I  get  little  yellow  round 
things,  (pause)  And  there  was  a  girl,  a  young 
girl,  a  girl  with  a  sick  'eart.  D'you  know  what 
came  to  'er?  You  know  what  came  to  'er.  She 
came  among  them  as  might  have  made  much  of  'er. 
For  she'd  'ave  give  a  lot  for  a  kind  word.  '  Er  'eart 
was  that  broke  'cr'd  'ave  broke  out  a-crying  at  a  kind 
word. 

65 


THE   TRAGEDY    OF    NAN    [act  in 


mrs  p.    When  you've  done  with  your  fal-lals,  I'll 
'ave  my  say. 

nan.  Don't  you  speak.  Don't  you  threaten. 
You'll  listen  to  me.  You  'ad  me  in  your  power.  And 
wot  was  good  in  me  you  sneered  at.  And  wot  was 
sweet  in  me,  you  soured.  And  wot  was  bright  in  me 
you  dulled.  I  was  a  fly  in  the  spider's  web.  'And  the 
web  came  round  me  and  round  me,  till  it  was  a 
shroud,  till  there  was  no  more  joy  in  the  world.  Till 
my  'eart  was  bitter  as  that  ink,  and  all  choked.  And 
for  that  I  get  little  yellow  round  things,  (pause 
and  change  of  voice)  And  all  of  it — No  need  for  any 
of  it.  My  dad's  life,  and  your  taunts,  and  my  broke 
'eart.  All  a  mistake.  A  mistake.  Somethin'  to  be 
put  right  by  fifty  pound  while  a  gentleman  waits  for  a 
coach.  'E  thought  nothing  of  it.  'E  thought  only  of 
getting  the  coach.  'Ed  didn't  even  pretend,  .(a  cry 
within)  It  were  a  game  to  'im.  'E  laughed  at  it.  (a 
cry  within)  Yes.  She  has  seen  herself.  No  wonder 
she  cries.  She  sees  the  parish  dead-cart  coming. 
(DICK  puts  his  head  in  at  the  door) 

dick.     Mother.     Come     to     Jenny.     Quick. 

mrs  p.     To  'ell  with  Jenny.     I've  somethin'  to  at- 
tend to  'ere. 

dick.     She's  in  a  fit  or  somethink.     Us  can-'ardly 
'old  'er  down. 

mrs  p.     (to  NAN)     More  of  yer  work.    You  wait 
till  I  come  back. 

A  girl,     (at  the  door)     Quick,  Mrs  Pargetter. 

(MRS  PARGETTER  snatches  the  brandy  bottle  and 

goes  out) 

par.     I  don't  know  'ow  all  this'll  end,  Nan. 
(He  goes  out) 
(RE-ENTER  DICK) 

dick.     I  brought  you  a  little  bit  o'  supper,  Miss 
Nan. 

66 


act  in]   THE   TRAGEDY    OF    NAN 

nan.     What  then? 

dick  I  thought — Won't  you  sit  down  and  'ave  it, 
Miss  Nan?  There.  Let  me  put  this  chair  comfer- 
able. 

nan.     Why  do  you  bring  this  to  me? 

dick.  I  thought — some'ow — I  thought  you'd  like 
a  bit  of  cossitin'. 

nan.     I  want  nothin'.     Nothin'. 

dick  Miss  Nan.  I  want  just  to  say.  Some  'ow, 
it  be  'ard  to  explain.  But  I  ask — I  ask  your  forgive- 
ness. 'Umbly  I  ask  it.  Oh,  Miss  Nan.  My  beau- 
ti-vul.     My  beautivul  as  I  wronged. 

nan.     As  you  wronged.     Yes? 

dick.  I  was — I  dunno — I  was  led  away,  Miss 
Nan. 

nan.  Yes,  Dick.  You  were  led  away.  How  were 
you  led  away?    Why? 

dick.  I  was  that.  When  I  'eard  as  your  dad  was. 
I  mean  when  I  'eard  of  your  dad.  I  doan'  know.  It 
seemed — I  felt  some'ow.  I  be  that  dry  I  can't  'ardly 
speak.     Miss  Nan — 

nan.     You  felt  some'ow?    Yes? 

dick.  As  your  'air  was,  was  a  cord  round  my 
throat.  Choking.  I  was  sick.  I  couldn't — no — I 
couldn't. 

nan.     And  was  that  the  only  reason  why  ? 

dick.     Yes,  Miss  Nan. 

nan.  And  why  did  you  choose  Jenny?  My  kiss 
was  still  warm  upon  your  lips,  (going  to  him)  Your 
blood  was  singing  in  your  veins  with  me,  when  you 
turned — Why  did  you  turn  to  'er? 

(a  pause) 
She  was  not  a — a  gallus-bird.     Eh? 

(A  pause.    DICK  licks  his  lips  and  swallows) 

(RE-ENTER  GAFFER  slowly,  with  a  few  roses 

plucked  in  the  garden.     He  goes  to  NAN) 

67 


THE   TRAGEDY    OF    NAN  [actiii 


gaffer.     The  moon  be  at  full,  O  wonder.     The 
cows  in  the  meadows  kneel  down. 

The  rabbits  be  kneelin'.     The  vlowers  in  the  edge 
do  kneel — 

Roses  for  your  'air,  my  beauty.     O  my  bright  'an- 
some  of  the  world. 

(He  gives  the  roses  reverently) 
Roses  in  your  'air.     And  the  bride's  'air  loose. 

(NAN  places  a  rose  in  her  hair  and  loosens  it  about 
her) 

nan.  (taking  some  money)  For  a  'eadstone, 
Gaffer,     (sharply)     Well,  Dick. 

dick.  I  was. — O,  I  can't.  To  show  that  I  'ad 
done  with  yer.     I  was  angry. 

nan.     Because  I  didn't  tell  you  of  my  dad? 

dick.     Yes. 

nan.  There  be  three  times,  Dick,  when  no  woman 
can  speak.  Beautiful  times.  When  'er  'ears  'er 
lover,  and  when  'er  gives  'erself,  and  when  'er  little 
one  is  born.  You — You'd  have  been  the  first  to  stop 
me  if  I'd  spoken  then. 

dick.  I  thought  as  you'd — not  been  straight — I 
thought — 

nan.  And  now  you  turn  again  from  Jenny.  Why 
have  you  left  Jenny,  Dick? 

gaffer,     (jangling  and  counting  money) 

'Nine.     'Ow  the  bells  do  chime, 

'Ten.     There's  a  path  for  men.' 

dick.  Because  I  don't  care  for  'er.  Because 
now — 

gaffer.     'Leven.     From  the  earth  to  'eaven. 

dick.     Be  quiet,  Gaffer. 

nan.     Because? 

dick.  O,  Miss  Nan.  It  be  you  as  I  love.  My  dad 
'ave  stop  me  afore.     But  now  your  name  be  cleared — 

nan.     Is  that  the  only  reason? 

68 


act  hi]  THE    TRAGEDY    OF    NAN 


gaffer,  (talking  through)  Twelve.  Twelve.  Us 
rang  out  a  peal  at  twelve.  Angels.  Gold 
angels.  The  devil  walks  the  dark  at  twelve. 
Ghosts.  Ghosts.  Behind  the  white  'edstones. 
Smite  'em,  gold  rider.  Smite  'em  with  thy 
bright  sharp  spear. 

nan.  Is  that  the  only  reason?  You  love  me, 
then? 

dick.  Yes.  That's  the  only  reason.  I  love  you, 
Nan. 

nan.     And  what  will  my  aunt  say  ? 

dick.     Damn  'er.     It's  'er  that  came  between  us. 

nan.     I  know  what  you  can  say  to  'er. 

dick.     What  ? 

nan.  Go  to  her  now.  Take  her  that  bag  of 
money.  Tell  her  she  may  have  that.  But  that  you 
will  marry  me,  not  Jenny. 

(DICK,  rather  staggered,  takes  up  the  bag  and  walks 

slowly  to  door) 

dick.  Wouldn't  it  be  better,  Miss  Nan,  if  us— if  us 
just  told  'er,  without — without  bein' — 

nan.     I  knew  it.     I  knew  it. 

(4  horn  is  heard  faintly  off) 

gaffer.  There  be  a  music  on  the  sea,  a  soft 
music.     The  ships  be  troubled  at  the  music. 

nan.  Come  here,  Dick.  They  said  my  dad  kill 
a  sheep.  A  foundered  old  ewe  as'd  feel  nothin';  'ard- 
ly  the  knife  on  'er  throat.  And  my  dad  was  'ung;  on- 
ly acos  they  said  'e  kill  a  beast  like  that.  They 
choked  'im  dead,  in  front  of  'alf  a  city.  But  you  come. 
And  you  'ave  yer  love  of  a  girl.  You  says  lovely 
things  to  'er.  Things  as'd  move  any  girl — and  only 
because  you  be  greedy.  Greedy  of  a  mouth  agen 
your  mouth ;  of  a  girl's  lip-;  babblin'  love  at  you.  And 
a  sour  old  woman's  word'll  make  you  'it  that  gi^l 
across  the  lips  you  kissed.     In  ten  minutes.     You'll 

69 


THE    TRAGEDY    OF    NAN  [act  in 

take  'er  lovin'  'eart  and  'er  girl's  pride,  and  all  'er  joy 
in  the  world,  and  stamp  it  in  the  dust.  And  you'll 
dance  on  'er  white  body;  and  all  you'll  feel  is  the 
blood  makin'  a  mess  on  your  boots. 

{The  horn  blows  nearer) 

gaffer.  The  horn.  The  horn.  O  night  owl 
laughing  in  the  wood. 

nan  And  you  go  to  another  girl.  And  you  give 
'er  a  joy  in  the  world.  And  then  you  see  your  old 
love  not  wot  the  old  woman  said.  No.  But  as  sweet 
to  the  taste,  as  dear  to  your  greedy  mouth.  And  with 
gold — yellow  round  things — to  buy  vanity.  'Ouses, 
'orses,  position.  Then  you  come  back  whining. 
Whining !  For  'er  to  take  you  back.  So  as  you  mid 
'ave  that  gold. 

dick.  O,  you  can  talk.  You've  a  right.  But  I 
love  you,  Nan.     I  do  love  yer. 

nan.  I  see  very  plain  tonight,  Dick.  I  see  right, 
right  into  you.  Right  down.  You  talk  o'  thieves. 
You  talk  o'  them  as  kills — them  as  leads  women 
wrong.  Sinners  you  calls  them.  But  it  be  you  is  the 
sinner.  You  kill  people's  'earts.  You  stamp  them 
in  the  dust,  like  worms  as  you  tread  on  in  the  fields. 
And  under  it  all  will  be  the  women  crying,  the  broken 
women,  the  women  cast  aside.  Tramped  on.  Spat 
on.  As  you  spat  on  me.  No,  no,  oh  no.  Oh  young 
man  in  your  beauty — Young  man  in  your  strong  hun- 
ger.    I  will  spare  those  women. 

dick,  {scared,  and  speaking  loudly,  so  as  to  attract 
them  in  the  inner  room)     I  never!     Mother!     Mother! 

gaffer.     O  Love  you  be  a  King.     A  King. 

nan.     I  will  spare  those  women.     Come  here  to  me. 

dick.  Ah!  Ah!  Mother!  {he  backs  towards  the 
door) 

gaffer.  On  the  road.  They  come.  Gold  hoofs. 
Gold  hoofs. 


70 


act  m]    THE   TRAGEDY    OF   NAN 

nan.  Spare  them.  Spare  them.  Spare  them  the 
hell.  The  hell  of  the  heart-broken.  Die— you — 
die.     (she  stabs  him  with  the  pastry  knife.     He  falls) 

dick,  (raising  himself  stupidly)  The  drums  be 
a-roaring.     A-roaring.     (he  dies) 

gaffer,  (clapping  his  hands)  Oh  Beauty,  beau- 
ty.    Oh  beauty  of  my  white  viewer. 

(A  murmuring  and  rushing  noise  is  heard  as  the 

tide  sweeps  up  from  the  sea) 

gaffer,  (shouts)  It  be  coming.  Out  of  the 
wells  of  the  sea.  The  eagles  of  the  sea  hear  it.  They 
sharp  their  beaks. 

(ENTER  hurriedly  the  others) 

mrs  p.  (running  to  DICK)  Dick.  Dick.  Oh! 
(screams)     Look  at  it  all  smoking. 

par.     'Ere.     The  brandy.     Quick.     'E's  gone. 

nan.     (as  the  noise  increases)     The  tide. 

gaffer.     The  tide. 

nan.     (laughing)     The  tide  coming  up  the  river. 

mrs  p.  Take  the  money,  Will.  Don't  'eed  the 
brandy. 

a  girl.     The  pleece,  Artie.     Get  the  pleece. 

nan.  (going  to  the  door  as  the  noise  increases)  A 
strange  fish  in  the  nets  to-morrow 

(She  goes) 

gaffer.     Singing.     Singing.     Roaring    it   come. 
Roaring  it  come.     Over  the  breast.     Over  the  lips. 
Over  the  eyes. 

(The  horn  blows) 

mrs  p.     (putting  the  money  hastily  in  the  locker) 
That's  something.     Wot  are  we  to  tell  them? 
(The  coach-horn  blows  loudly  and  clearly) 

gaffer.     The  horn!     The  horn! 

CURTAIN 

71 


THE  CAMPDEN  WONDER 


THE  CAMPDEN  WONDER 


PERSONS 


John  Perry 
Dick  Perry 
Parson 

Tom  Constable 
Mrs.  Perry 
Mrs.  Harrison 


PLAYED  BT 

.   Mr.  Norman  McKinnel 

Mr.  H.  R.  Hignett 

Mr.  Edmund  Gurney 

„  Mr.  Norman  Page 

.    Miss  Carlotta  Addison 

Miss  Dolores  Drummond 


This  play  was  produced  at  the  Court  Theatre,  in  London, 
on  the  8th  of  January,  1907,  under  the  direction  of  Mr.  H. 
Granville  Barker. 


THE  CAMPDEN  WONDER 


SCENE    I 

SCENE.     Harrison's  Kitchen  in  Campden. 

joan:  Be  the  master  come  home  from  Charring- 
worth  yet? 

rich:     I  an't  heard  him,  I  an't. 

joan:     He  be  gone  a  great  while.     It's  near  ten. 

rich:  (going  to  the  door)  Be  you  there,  Mas- 
ter?— No,  a  ben't  come  home  yet,  Mother. 

joan:  Why,  whatever  have  a  kept  'en.  If  that 
ben't  ten  a  striking! 

rich:  Old  Mr  Curtis,  he've  a  harvest  feast  to- 
night. Her'll  have  stopped  with  old  Mr  Curtis, 
Mother.  Her'll  sleep  there  after  veast,  in  the  barn,  I 
do  think. 

joan:  (laughing)  He  be  a  good  one,  he  be.  Sev- 
enty year  old  he  be — And  her  do  drink,  her  do,  and 
her  do  sing.  Law !  how  a  do  sing,  to  be  sure;  and  a  do 
like  a's  ale. 

rich:  Her  be  a  good  old  soul — A  old  ram,  he  be. 
Lor,  now,  to  think  on  the  merry  deeds  of  him,  the  old 
sinful  soul.  Only  last  year  now — him  away  so  sly 
now,  like  a  old  fox.  They  said  a  was  killed  for  sure; 
and  there  a  were  to  Gloucester  surely,  a  drinking,  a 
drinking  merry,  and  him  his  threescore  and  ten! 

joan:  Her  be  a  merry  old  soul.  Her  be  a  trusty 
good  soul — And  a  be  a  good  master.  Her've  done 
right  by  thee,  Dick. 

rich:     Her  did  say  this  noon,  I  should  have  twelve 

77 


THE    CAMPDEN   WONDER 

shillin'  a  week  after  Michaelmas.     That's  more  than 
brother  John  gets. 

joan:  Ah,  to  think  of  that  now!  More  than  thy 
brother  John!  Thy  brother  John — he  be  a  strange 
one,  he  be.  I  do  fear  I'll  live  to  see  thy  brother  John 
hanged!  He  be  earnin'  nine  shillin'  a  week,  and  he 
drink  that,  he  do. — And  he  be  a  handsome  lad,  Dick, 
a  fine  grown  lad,  John  be.     He  be  like  his  feyther  was. 

rich:  I  do  think  as  how  a  should  do  summat  for 
you,  Mother,  and  not  go  a-drinking  all  he  do  earn. 

joan:  He  be  a  handsome  lad,  Dick,  thy  brother 
John.  A  dear,  a  dear,  he  be  the  very  spit  of  his  poor 
feyther,  and  he  be  a  sad  one,  he  be;  and  he  do  drink 
all  his  nine  shillin'. 

(enter    JOHN) 

john:     Who  do  drink  all  his  nine  shillin'? 

joan:  Ah,  John!  there  thou  be,  lad.  You  be  late 
out,  John. 

john:  You  were  talking  about  me,  you  were. 
You  were  saying  as  I  drank — you  and  Dick  there.  He 
be  a  godly  one,  brother  Dick  be.  (To  DICK)  You 
keep  your  tongue  shut  about  me,  and  about  my  nine 
shillin'.  If  I  do  drink  it,  I  drink  it  open.  I  ben't  one 
to  go  knucklin'  to  pa'son,  I  ben't.  Nor  I  don't  go 
knucklin'  to  my  lord,  like  some  I  know. 

joan:  There,  there,  John.  Don't  'ee  take  on, 
now! 

rich:  It  would  be  better,  I  do  think,  if  as  how 
you  did  go  knucklin',  as  you  call  it,  stead  of  swillin' 
like  a  beast  up  to  beerhouse. 

joan:  There,  there,  Dick,  lad,  don't  'ee  go  for  to 
mad  him.  Speak  un  fair,  lad — thy  elder  brother  he 
be. 

john:  {mimicking)  Ah!  speak  un  fair — You 
shut  your  head,  Mother.  I  be  good  enough  to  stand 
up  to  Dick,  I  be.    Who  goes  swillin'  like  a  beast? 

78 


THE    CAMPDEN   WONDER 

rich:  You  do.  They  be  fair  shamed  to  speak  to 
us,  neighbours  be.  They  be  a  drunken  lot,  them  Per- 
rys,  they  say — 'Ah',  they  say,  'I  see  John  Perry  over  to 
Aston.     He  were  asleep  in  the  ditch,  the  drunken  sot!' 

john:     Who  say? 

rich:  Parson  say,  and  Farmer  Hill  say,  and  thy 
poor  Mother  say,  and  I  say  too,  if  they  ben't  good 
enough. 

john:  Let  un  say!  You  be  a  lot  of  old  puts,  all 
on  you — You  leave  I,  I  do  advise  thee.  I  won't  take 
no  preachin'  from  you.  You  be  a  old  put,  and 
Mother  be. 

rich:  Rather  be  a  old  put,  than  rotten  fruit,  you 
drunken  dog,  you! 

john:     I  ben't  no  drunken  dog. 

rich:     You  be. 

joan:     Ah!     Don't  'ee  mad  un  now,  Dick. 

john:  Better  be  a  drunken  dog  than  a  knuckier  to 
Pa'son.  You  was  always  the  good  one,  you  was. 
You  was  like  the  good  boy  in  the  Bible,  you  always 
was.  You  was  born  to  tread  on  my  corns,  you  was, 
you  closhy  put. 

rich:      I  ben't  no  closhy  put. 

jonN:  You've  crossed  I  long  enough,  Master 
Dick.  You  cross  I  no  more,  or  I'll  give  you  a  cross 
'11  set  thee  i'  the  muck. 

rich:     I  don't  cross  thee,  John,  nor  I  never  done. 

john:  You  be  a  liar!  Wan't  you  a  gettin'  six' 
pence  when  I  were  a  gettin'  nought?  Wan't  it  you 
got  the  hat  give  you?  Wan't  it  you  got  Master's  coat 
with  the  red  trimmings?  And  I  got  nought.  You 
with  your  pretty  face,  you  grinning  pinkanye!  Wan't 
you  a  gettin'  eight  shillin'  when  I  were  a  gettin'  but 
seven?     And  I  your  elder,  and  your  better. 

dick:  You  be  my  elder,  but  you  ben't  my  better. 
If  I  got  eight  shillin'  an'  you  seven,  it's  because  I  didn't 

79 


THE    CAMPDEN    WONDER 


go  swilling  over  to  Aston.  I  didn't  get  drunk,  I 
didn't. 

john:  No,  nor  you  hadn't  got  the  soul  in  you,  you 
mean.  Then  you  comes  a  sucking  and  a  trucking  to 
Master  Harrison — 'Ah!'  you  says,  'ben't  I  a  godly 
one?  Ben't  I  proper  and  godly ?'  'Ah!' you  says — 
So  you  get  took  to  be  his  servant.  Wan't  that  a 
cross  to  me?  Wan't  I  enough  servant  to  him?  I 
didn't  want  no  knucklin'  sniveller  helping  me.  You 
call  that  not  crossing,  don't  you?    Ah! 

joan:  Now  ha'  done,  John,  ha'  done.  Don't  'ee 
mind  thy  brother  Dick,  John. 

john:  But  I  will  mind  him,  I  tell  'ee.  He  have 
crossed  me  since  we  weren't  that  high.  Ah!  you  dog, 
you.  I  be  a  drunken  one,  be  I  ?  You  must  get  more 
than  I  get,  must  you?  And  my  lady'll  speak  to  you. 
'Good  mornin',  Perry,'  she'll  say,  'Oh!  what  beautiful 
weather.'  'Good  evenin',  Dick,'  she'll  say,  'You 
ben't  no  sot,  you  ben't.  You  ben't  like  your  brother 
John.' — No,  no,  you  be  a  innocent  lamb,  you  be;  but 
you  be  warned!  You  have  done  of  your  crossing  me — 
you  dear  sweet  suckin'  innocent  lamb.  You  was  him 
got  sore  knees  from  praying,  you  was,  you  dog  of 
dogtown! 

joan:    Ah!     John  dear,  do  a  done! 

rich:  Now,  don't  you  go  calling  names,  John  Per- 
ry. I'll  tell  you  what  you  are.  You're  a  disgrace; 
you'll  come  to  a  bad  end.  I  never  crossed  you,  and 
you  know  it.  It's  true  I'm  getting  more  than  you. 
After  Michaelmas  I'll  be  getting  more  still.  I'll  be 
getting  twelve  shilling  a  week.  If  you'd  do  more, 
and  drink  less,  you'd  be  getting  the  same. 

john:    If  I'd  do  more!    Don't  you  preach  to  me. 

What's  the  good  of  doing  more,  with  you  stepping  in 

over  my  head.     Twelve  shilling  a  week  you're  going 

te  have,  are  you?    You  are  not.    You  think  your- 

80 


THE    CAMPDEN   WONDER 

self  high  in  the  world.  You  think  you're  a  clever 
one.  You  think  you'll  do  better  than  your  brother. 
You  will  not.  Not  with  me  here.  High  in  the 
world  you  think  yourself  with  your  twelve  shilling. 
I'll  bring  you  low — I'll  bring  you  lower  than  the  low- 
est. 

rich:     It'll  take  a  soberer  man  than  you  to  do  it. 

john:    What'll  it  take? 

joan:  A  dear!  A  dear!  That  ever  I  should  see 
the  day!  Go  home,  Dick  lad,  you're  only  angering 
your  brother. 

john:  Lower  than  the  lowest,  I'll  bring  you. 
You  shall  drag  in  the  dirt,  you  and  your  twelve  shil- 
lin'! 

rich:  I  tell  you  it'll  take  a  soberer  man  than  you. 
Go  home,  man.  Get  someone  to  pump  on  you. 
You  need  sobering.  I  wonder  you're  not  ashamed  to 
talk  that  way  afore  your  mother! 

john:  Don't  you  learn  me  my  duty,  you  Noll 
Crumwell's  man,  you  Dicky  Kill  King! 

rich:     What  am  I? 

john:  A  canting  put.  That's  what  you  are — and 
a  dog — A  dirty  twelve  shilling  sneck  up  of  a  Ledbury 
lawyer;  but  you  mark  me,  I'll  bring  you  down! 

rich:  Go  home  and  sleep  it  off,  man.  I'm  sick 
of  hearing  you. 

john:  What?  What?  Sick,  are  you?  I'll 
make  you  sicker. 

{He  flies  at  RICH:  and  grapples  with  him) 

joan:  (running  to  door)  Help!  Help!  Mrs 
Harrison! 

(ENTER    MRS    HARRISON) 

MRS  h:  Lord  save  us,  and  spare  us!  Good  God, 
be  good  to  us!  Why,  what's  all  this?  Lord 
God's  my  mercy;  why,  Dick,  why,  John!  John, 
what  are  you  doing  here?     I  thought  I   forbid  you 

81 


THE    CAMPDEN   WONDER 

my  kitchen.  Dick,  I'm  ashamed  of  you!  As  for 
you,  John,  a  gaol's  the  best  place  for  you.  Dick,  I'm 
ashamed  of  you,  fighting  in  your  Master's  kitchen,  and 
with  your  own  brother!  You'd  ought  to  be  ashamed 
of  yourself !  It  was  enough  to  turn  all  the  beer  in  the 
cellar,  the  noise  you  were  making. 

rich:     He  began  it,  mum! 

john:     You  be  a  liar. 

joan:     Remember  your  duty. 

mrs  h:  Now  say  a  word  more,  John  Perry,  and 
I'll  have  you  bound  over.  As  for  you,  Dick,  I'll  tell 
your  Master.     Has  your  Master  come  in  yet? 

dick:     No  'm.     Us  haven't  heard  him. 

mrs  h:  Lord  God,  be  good  to  a  sinful  woman.  If 
I  haven't  enough  to  bear!  It's  not  enough  that  I  have 
my  house  made  a  common  bawdy  house.  Like  a  den 
of  thieves  it  was,  the  noise  you  were  making;  and  my 
man  must  go  boozing  till  I  don't  know  what  hour. — 
It'll  be  another  of  his  gallivaunts — I'll  give  him  har- 
vesting when  he  comes  in.  Go  saddle  the  mare,  one 
of  you,  and  go  to  Charringworth  and  bring  him  back 
with  you. 

john:  (Rising)  I'll  go,  give  me  the  lantern, 
Mother. 

dick:  You  set  down,  John  Perry.  You  ain't  fit 
to  bring  any  one  home. 

john:  Give  I  the  lantern.  (To  DICK)  I'll 
give  you  a  bloody  head  if  you  orders  me. 

dick:  Set  down,  when  you're  told.  Give  me  that 
light. 

john:  No,  you  don't!  Stand  back.  Would  you? 
Take  that!     (he  hits  him) 

joan:     Ah,  Lord!     Ah,  Lord!  Don't 'ee,  Dick,  lad. 

mrs  h:  Now,  John,  John  Perry — Lord  God's  my 
hope  and  mercy.  There'll  be  bloody  adultery  done. 
What,  John,  I  say! 

B2 


THE    CAMPDEN   WONDER 


john:     I'll  learn  'ee. 

dick:     Let  go  of  my  throat,  or  I'll  hit  'ee  one. 

joan:     Ah  dear!     Ah  dear!     Oh,  do  'ee. 

mrs  h:  {snatching  a  cider  mug  and  dashing  cider 
into  JOHN'S  face — the  fighters  separate)  Lord  God's 
my  hope  and  mercy!  If  I'm  not  all  of  a  tremble — all 
of  a  tremble  you've  made  me.  And  the  cider  all  over 
my  new  taffety!  Lord  God's  my  witness,  there 
might  have  been  murder  done.  Get  you  out  of  this, 
John  Perry.  I  do  believe,  John,  as  you'd  do  murder. 
Get  you  out  of  this.  Never  you  darken  these  doors 
again.  I  believe  as  you'd  cut  my  husband's  throat — 
Lord  Jesus  have  mercy — for  what  he  had  on  him. 
Saddle  the  mare,  Dick.  You're  the  only  one  of  the 
two  I  can  trust.  Saddle  the  mare,  Dick.  Where's 
my  bottle  of  cordials  ? 

(exit) 

dick:  I  knowed  how  it  would  be — and  I  get  dis- 
graced because  you  go  swilling  beer,  and  come  here 
drunk.  Give  us  the  lantern.  (He  lights  it. 
John  glowers  at  him) 

joan:  Ah  dear!  ah  dear!  Ah,  Dick,  I  do  wish 
thee  wouldn't  mad  thy  brother.  Ah  dear!  Ah  dear! 
He  be  that  like  his  poor  feyther. 

dick:  (taking  harness  down)  You're  a  dis- 
grace, you  are.  You're  a  disgrace  to  Campden — 
you're  a  disgrace  to  your  mother.  You  make  us 
shamed.     Ugh,  you  drunkard! 

(exit  dick  with  harness  and  lantern:  JOHN 
glowers  after  him) 

joan:  (in  a  quavering  voice)  Ah  dear,  ah  dear. 
I  be  getting  old.  It  ben't  like  it  were.  There  be 
none  to  comfort  me  now  my  man  is  taken.  If  thy 
poor  feyther  were  alive  now!  Ah,  John  dear,  don't 
'ee  mind  thy  brother  Dick.  Ah  dear,  he  do  mad  thee, 
that  he  do.    He  do  vex  thee  sore.    Ah  dear!    I  must 

33 


THE    CAMPDEN   WONDER 

be  getting  home. — It  be  late.    Don't  'ee  mind  thy 
brother  Dick,  John. 

john:     I'll  mind  my  brother  Dick. 

(She  goes  out  slowly  after  waiting  a  moment. 
JOHN  glowers  after  her) 

john:  (slowly)  Old  Harrison  be  out  late.  They 
think  he  be  gone  away  boozing,  but  he  ben't.  Only  I 
know  where  old  Harrison  be  gone,  (a  pause) 
Twelve  shillin'  a  week  you  be  gettin'.  Twelve  shil- 
lin'  a  week,  and  I  nought  but  nine.  (The  mare's 
hoofs  sound  outside)  Ah,  ha,  ha!  I'll  do  it — That's 
what  I'll  do. 

(re-enter  joan) 

john:  I'll  drag  him  lower  than  the  low,  him 
and  his  twelve  shillin'. 

joan:    Do  'ee  come,  John.     I  be  all  of  a  shake. 

john:     (going)     Lower  than  the  dirt,  I'll  drag  him. 

curtain 
(The  Curtain  rises  again  immediately) 


scene    II 

scene:     The  same,    mrs  harrison  and  the  par- 
son,    (dick   perry,    within,     singing,  and    joan 
joining  in  the  chorus,  heard  faintly). 
parson:    Come,  come,  Mrs  Harrison,  bear  a  good 
heart!     Come,   don't  take  on  so.     Your  husband's 
only — only  gone  to  see  a  friend.     He'll  be  back  to 
dinner,  I  daresay. 

mrs  h:     Not  with  the  friends  he  goes  to  see,  no. 
Oh,  if  I  haven't  much  to  bear. 

parson:     O,  but,  Mrs  Harrison,  come  now,  go  in 
and   take   some    breakfast.     Why,    your    husband's 
well  enough.    Think,  think  of  last  year,  what  a  turn 
84 


THE    CAMPDEN   WONDER 

he  gave  us.     No  one  would  hurt  Mr  Harrison.     It's 
absurd.     Anyone  would  think  he  had  been  murdered. 

mrs  h:  Murdered — ah!  There's  some  comfort 
in  a  corpse.  There's  satisfaction  in  a  body.  I  was 
saying  that  to  Mrs  Murrell.  'If  one  has  the  body,'  I 
said,  'one  knows  one  has  done  one's  duty  by  it.'  One 
knows  that  it's  all  for  the  best,  and  then  there's  the 
funeral.  O  dear,  O  dear — my  man  lying  drunk  in  a 
ditch!  It's  his  beer  again — Beer,  beer,  beer.  It's 
his  ruin.  O,  if  I  had  you  here,  William  Harrison! 
O,  a  corpse  would  be  a  mercy  compared  to  this.  And 
half  of  my  lady's  corn  not  cut,  and  the  reapers  saying 
they  must  have  another  penny  a  day.  O,  William 
Harrison!  Man  is  a  trial,  and  a  rod  of  affliction. 
It's  a  gnashing  of  teeth  you've  been  to  me. 
(enter    JOHN) 

parson:  Why,  my  good  Mrs  Harrison,  this'll 
never  do.  Why,  here's  John  Perry  back.  Come,  John, 
you've  brought  good  news,  I'm  sure.  Come,  Mrs 
Harrison,  here's  John  back.  Well,  John,  have  you 
found  Mr  Harrison?    Where  was  he? 

john:  No,  nor  won't  find  him — Neither  you  nor 
no  one. 

parson:     John! 

john:     Neither  you  nor  no  one. 

mrs  h:  There,  now!  If  he  hasn't  been  at  the 
drink  again.  I  smell  it  on  him  from  here — like  an 
empty  cider  cask.  I  think  I've  enough  to  bear  with- 
out you  getting  drunk,  John  Perry. 

john:     You  have  enough  to  bear — that's  true. 

parson:  What  do  you  mean,  John,  man?  He's 
not  drunk,  Mrs  Harrison.  What  is  it?  What  has 
happened? 

mrs  h:  You  don't  mean  to  say  he  was  seen  with 
Mrs  Emsworth?     I'm — 

parson:    Hush,  Mrs  Harrison — we  are  all  in  God's 

85 


THE    CAMPDEN   WONDER 

hand.     Speak  John.    Tell  us!    Speak,  man,  can't 
you? 

john:     I  want  my  words  took  down. 

(THE  PARSON  looks  hard  at  him) 

mrs  h:  Is  it  as  bad  as  that  ?  He's  been  seen  with 
the  scarlet  woman!  He's  been  sitting  on  the  seven 
hills.  I  know  it.  O  dear,  O  dear,  drinking  the  wine 
of  wrath. 

parson:  Hush,  Mrs  Harrison.  (He  sits  down  to 
ink  and  paper)  Now,  John,  tell  us  all  you  have  to 
say.  Mrs  Harrison,  we  are  but  children,  we  must 
submit  to  Providence.  We  are  here  to  declare  the 
glory  of  God,  not  to  cry  over  our  little  hurts.  If 
Providence  has  taken  your  husband,  you  should  re- 
joice. Now,  John,  speak,  tell  us  everything.  Come, 
Mrs  Harrison. 

(The  voices  of  DICK  and  JOAN  within,  singing) 

john:  I  ben't  going  to  tell  my  words,  till  there  be 
witnesses.  I  want  Tom  Constable,  and  I  want 
Mother  here,  and  brother  Dick.  I  got  Tom  Con- 
stable, outside.     I  brought  'en  special. 

parson:  (going  to  door)  Mrs  Perry!  Dick!  Is  Tom 
Constable,  outside  there  still,  or  has  he  gone  home? 

dick:     (within)     He  be  here,  sir. 

parson:  Just  ask  him  to  step  inside,  and  will  you 
come  in  too,  both  of  you  ? 

(ENTER  DICK,  JOAN  AND  TOM  CONSTABLE) 

Stand  at  the  door,  Tom,  and  attend  to  what  is  said. 

tom:      I  will,  sir. 

parson:  (aside)  Mrs  Perry,  just  get  out  the  cor- 
dials, and  set  them  by  Mrs  Harrison,  I'm  afraid  she 
may  swoon,  (she  does  so)  I  want  you  all  to  attend 
to  what  John,  there,  has  to  say.  Now,  John,  tell  all 
you  know. 

john:  I  ben't  going  to  tell  my  words,  not  till  I  had 
my  book-oath  took, 

8$ 


THE  CAMPDEN  WONDER 


parson:     Lay  your  hand  on  this  testament. 

john:  (putting  hand  on  testament)  I  be  going  to 
testify. 

(a  pause) 

john  :  I  be  going  to  testify,  (glowering  at  MRS. 
HARRISON)  Mrs  Harrison,  thee'd  best  drink  a 
drop — I  got  awful  news.  I  got  awful  news.  Mr 
Harrison  be  dead. 

parson:  Be  patient, Mrs  Harrison, hear  all.  How 
dead? 

john:     Murdered  dead. 

all:    What? 

john:     Murdered  dead! 

parson:  (standing  up)  We  are  but  children,  Mrs 
Harrison.  Whom  God  loveth  he  chasteneth.  How 
was  he  murdered,  John? 

john:  I  be  going  to  testify.  I  want  my  words 
took  down.  (PARSON  takes  pen)— It  was  us  mur- 
dered Mr  Harrison. 

all:     What,  what,  what  d'ye  mean? 

john:  It  was  I,  and  Mother,  and  Dick  there,  mur- 
dered Mr  Harrison. 

dick:     You — liar! 

joan:     Be  you  gone  mad,  John? 

parson:     Have  a  care  what  you  say,  John  Perry. 

john:     For  his  gold  we  murdered  him. 

mrs  h:  I  don't  believe  a  word  you're  saying — 
(Weeps) 

john:     For  his  gold  we  murdered  him. 

dick:     I  wonder  God  don't  strike  thee  dead,  John. 

joan:  John  have  gone  crazed,  sir.  It  be  the  sun 
— he  were  in  the  sun  afore  he  took  food  this  morning. 
Do  'ee  sit,  John.  Us'll  bathe  thy  poor  head 
for  'ee. 

john:  We  murdered  en  dead  for  his  gold.  For 
his  gold  we  murdered  en, — didn't  us,  Dick? 

87 


THE    CAMPDEN   WONDER 


dick:  Mr  .  .  .  Sir!  God  have  afflicted  my 
poor  brother— He  don't  know  what  he  say. 

John:  I  know  what  I  say,  I  do.  And  you  do. 
It  lie  black  on  my  breast — It  was  your  bloody  mind 
planned  it. 

mrs  h:  You  be  a-lying,  John  Perry.  You  always 
was  a  liar!  I  was  saying  what  a  liar  you  was  only 
yesterday,  to  Mrs  Murrell  I  said  it— 'that  John  Perry 
be  a  liar,'  I  said.  Where  did  you  murder  him? 
Where's  the  body? 

john:     We  murdered  en  dead  for  his  gold. 

dick:  Shall  us  put  leeches  to  en's  head,  Sir?  H* 
be  mazed.    It  be  the  blood     Shall  I  go  fetch  Doctor  ? 

parson:  (in  a  hard  voice)  Stay  where  you  are, 
Richard  Perry.  Come  here  to  the  table— and  you, 
Mrs  Perry.  Will  you  lay  your  hands  to  this  testament 
and  swear  you  are  innocent  of  this  crime?  This 
crime  John  accuses  you  of? 

dick:  Sir,  you  don't  surely — sir,  you  don't  go  for 
to  believe  him?  Sir,  you  don't  go  for  to  believe 
him? 

_  joan:     My  poor  boy  be  crazed,  sir.     Make  'en  set, 
sir.     He  don't  know  what  he  do  say. 

parson:  I  ask  you  to  put  your  hands  to  this  testa- 
ment, and  swear  you  are  innocent  of  this  crime.  This 
crime  John  here  accuses  you  of. 

dick:  Sir,  you  ben't  thinking— O!  God,  sir,  you 
ben't  thinking  that? 

joan:  I  do  swear  it,  Sir.  I  swear  it  purely.  Do 
'ee  let  me  bathe  his  head  now,  Sir.  It  be  only  a  wam- 
mering-like. 

john:  It  ben't  no  wammering.  It  lie  black  on 
my  breast. 

parson:  Come  here  to  the  table,  Dick  Perry.  I 
want  you  to  swear — Put  your  hand  on  this  testament. 

dick:     (aloud)     What  be  I  to  say,  sir? 
88 


THE    CAMPDEN   WONDER 

john:  Say  how  we  killed  en,  Dick.  Say  how  we 
laid  en  dead. 

dick:  I  say  you  be  a  wicked  liar,  John,  a  liar 
afore  God.  I  say  as  I  be  false  accused,  and  as  Mother 
is.  And  I  say  you  be  a  wicked  liar,  John,  or  you  be 
smit  mad. 

john:  You  come  to  me  last  night,  you  did.  And 
Mother  come — 'Let's  kill  en',  you  said — And  you'd 
said  it  afore.  'Let's  kill  en',  you  said — and  Mother 
said  it. 

dick:  Parson,  do  believe  en!  (a  pause) — God 
help  my  poor  wife!  (he  goes  to  testament) — I  do 
swear  as  I  be  false  accused.  As  I  be  innocent — And 
as  Mother  be. 

mrs  h:  And  I  believe  thee,  Dick.  Thy  brother 
John  be  a  liar:  to  Mrs  Murrell  I  said  it.  If  he  ben't 
swooning,  now. 

(DICK  puts  his  hand  to  his  head,  and  sways  a  mo- 
ment.    He  takes  out  a  handkerchief,  as  he  takes  it 

out  he  drops  some  twine) 

john:  (pouncing  on  the  twine)  Now,  what  d'ye 
say,  Dick  Perry?  'Ee  don't  know  this,  do  'ee,  now. 
What  be  this  string,  Dick  ?    What  be  this,  Mother  ? 

dick:     It  be  my  poor  wife's  hair  net. 

joan:     Why,  so  it  be.     It  be  a  hair  net,  to  be  sure. 

parson:  What  do  you  know  of  this  hair-string, 
John  Perry?     Do  you  know  it? 

john:  I  know  it,  I  do.  And  Mother  know  it,  and 
Dick.  To  our  cost  we  know  it.  It  be  the  cord  we 
murdered  en  with. 

joan  and  dick:     Oh,  John  Perry! 

parson:    Where  was  this?  This  that  you  say ? 

john:  Below  Battle  Ridge.  At  the  foot  o'hill  it 
were.     By  the  brook,  where  they  found  ens  collar. 

joan:     Us  was  never  nigh  the  place. 

dick:     John,  have  done  with  thy  sport.     Say  you 

89 


THE   CAMPDEN   WONDER 


be  fooling.     Parson— Do  'ee  think  what  'ee  be  say- 
ing. 

john:  I  do  think,  I  do.  And  you  think.  I  con- 
fessed, I  have.  I  made  a  clean  breast — our  sin  be 
black— black  it  be— to  kill  poor  Mr  Harrison. 

parson:  Be  calm,  Mrs  Harrison,  hear  all.  (he 
writes)  Now  tell  us  how  you  killed  him.  Listen 
Tom,  you  will  have  to  give  evidence  at  the  trial. 

dick  and  joan:  Sir,  don't  you  believe  en.  Sir, 
you  ben't  goin'  to  believe  en.  He  be  lying,  sir.  Mrs 
Harrison  knows  he  be  lying.     He  be  smit  mad,  sir. 

parson:  Keep  silence,  please.  You  will  be  heard 
in  due  course.     Now,  John. 

john:  So  brother  Dick  he  says,  'Let's  kill  en'. 
'For  ens  gold,'  says  Mother.  Often  they'd  said  it. 
So  us  goes  out — 

parson:     What  time  was  this? 

john:  It  were — it  were  twelve.  So  us  goes  out, 
and  we  see  old  Mr  Harrison  coming,  singing.  In  the 
moonlight  we  seed  en,  and  Dick  and  Mother  and  I, 
we  strangles  un— with  this  cord.  O,  it  were  a  black 
deed! 

mrs  h:  (Interrupting)  John  Perry,  you  be  ly- 
ing_where's  the  body?  I  don't  believe  as  my  poor 
man  be  dead.  Nor  I  won't.  Not  till  I  touch  his 
cold  corpse — there  now. 

parson:     Where  is  the  body,  John? 

john:  Mother  and  Dick  took  ens  body.  They 
were  hardened  uns,  they  were.  I  were  that  shook  by 
our  black  deed !  O,  a  black  deed  it  were.  Where  did 
'ee  put  ens  corpse,  Mother?     Hey,  Dick? 

dick:  (To  PARSON)  Sir,  he  be  play-acting. 
You  see  he  be  play-acting. 

joan:     If  my  poor  man  were  alive,  us  wouldn't  be 
like  this,  us  wouldn't.     Do  'ee  not  damn  thy  soul 
black,  John.    Thou  knows  us  be  innocent. 
90 


THE    CAMPDEN    WONDER 

john:  A  proper  hardened  un,  you  was;  and  Dick 
was. 

parson:  Richard  Perry,  can  you  now,  in  the  sight 
of  God,  put  your  hand  on  this  testament,  and  swear 
yourself  innocent,  after  what  John  here  has  said? 
Can  you,  Mrs  Perry? 

mrs  p:  I  be  a  poor  old  widow  woman,  I  be.  I 
an't  got  no  man,  I  an't,  not  since  my  poor  man  were 
took.  Seventy  year  have  I  lived  in  Campden,  and 
some  time  it  have  been  hard,  and  some  time  it  have 
been  not  so  hard;  and  us  have  had  our  little  home,  us 
have,  though  us  were  poor.  I  have  brought  my  sons 
up  in  the  fear  of  the  Lord.  I  wasn't  never  ques- 
tioned like  this  afore.  Us  have  borne  a  good  name, 
us  have,  though  us  were  poor.  I  be  innocent,  Sir. 
God  forgive  my  poor  lying  boy. 

john:     God  forgive  thee  leading  I  to  murder. 

parson:     Now,  Richard  Perry. 

mrs  h:  Dick  be  fainting,  {to  PARSON)  It  be 
a  cruel  shame,  it  be,  sir,  to  vex  us  so.     For  shame,  Sir. 

dick:  I  be  innocent,  I  be.  John  knows  I  be  in- 
nocent. My  poor  wife  knows  I  be,  and  Mother 
knows.     {He  touches  book  and  sways) 

parson:  His  nose  is  bleeding.  It  is  the  hand  of 
God.     God  hath  spoken,  Tom. 

tom:     Ess,  sir. 

parson:     Call  thy  men. 

{TOM  goes  to  door  and  whistles) 

dick:  What  be  'ee  going  to  do,  please,  sir.  Us 
have  sworn. 

(enter  men) 

parson:  Tom  Constable,  take  John  here,  and 
Dick,  and  Mrs  Perry,  to  the  lock-up. 

dick:     Sir,  do  'ee  now! 

tom:  Thee'd  best  come  quiet,  Dick.  Us  won't 
hurt  'ee. 

91 


THE    CAMPDEN   WON.DER 

dick:  But  I  be  innocent.  It  be  a  lie.  I  ben't  no 
murderer. 

parson:  You  will  be  able  to  prove  that  at  your 
trial.     Remove  them,  Tom. 

john:  Our  blood  be  due  for  our  black  deed — Us 
shall  all  hang. 

joan:  Give  me  thy  arm,  Tom.  I  be  a  old  woman. 
I  ain't  got  no  man,  I  an't.  Book  says  us  must  be  pa- 
tient, (she  goes  to  JOHN  and  strokes  his  face) 
John,  boy,  thee  be  that  like  thy  dad,  John.  Us  must 
get  Doctor  to  un,  mustn't  us,  Dick?  (she  makes  her 
reverence  to  PARSON) 

tom:     Come,  mother,  lean  on  my  arm. 

dick:  Bear  on  me,  Mother.  (They  support  her 
to  door) 

joan:  (turning  at  door)  Mrs  Harrison,  us  be 
poor  folk,  false  accused.  Do  'ee  get  Doctor  to  look 
to  my  poor  boy. 

john:  Us  shall  be  like  Staffordshire — three  hung 
in  one  knot. 

parson:    Do  your  office,  Tom. 

(exeunt  constables  &c. 
manent  parson  &  mrs  harrison) 
Bear  up,  Mrs  Harrison.  We  are  like  the  old  lanterns 
in  the  hall — we  are  dark — we  are  broken.  And  anon 
God  takes  us,  and  sets  us  on  the  walls  of  Heaven,  amid 
unspeakable  beauty,  to  light  His  Courts.  Your  hus- 
band— 

mrs  h:  Mr  Parson,  sir.  You  be  a  man  of  God, 
and  you  be  a  scholard.  It  don't  beseem  the  likes  of 
me  to  talk  plain  to  the  likes  of  you.  You'd  ought  to 
go  down  on  your  knees  and  ask  forgiveness.  You  be 
swift  to  shed  innocent  blood.  You  talk  of  lanterns, 
and  such.  Down  on  your  knees,  you  ought  to  go. 
You've  been  and  committed  them  Perrys  on  the  word 
of  a  liar  and  a  dog.  My  man  ben't  murdered — my 
92 


THE    CAMPDEN   WONDER 

man  ben't  murdered.     That  John  Perry'd  hang  his 
mother  for  a  sup  of  drink. 

parson:  Mrs  Harrison,  John  Perry  would  not  ac- 
cuse himself;  you  forget  yourself. 

mrs  h:  Forget  myself,  do  I!  In  my  own  house — 
quotha!  Ladida  indeed — so  I  forget  myself!  You 
be  a  sneck  up  of  a  covetuous  Levite,  a  creeping  into 
widows'  houses.  That's  what  you  be.  Ladida  in- 
deed! But  I  ben't  no  widow.  When  my  man  comes 
home  he  shall  reckon  with  thee,  he  shall.  And  the 
Perrys  shall.  They'll  teach  'ee  to  shed  innocent 
blood  on  the  word  of  a  dog  and  a  liar.  Marry,  come 
up! 

(exit    parson) 
O,  Willy  Harrison,  Willy  Harrison!     You  and  your 
beer  will  be  my  death! 

curtain 

scene  in 

(,4  room  in  the  lock-up  at  Broad  Campden.     mrs 

perry,  dick,  john,  secured  by  wrists  and  ankles  to 

chains.     They  are  in  different  corners.     A  table  in 

front) 

joan:  Us  be  to  die,  Dick.  Do  'ee  bear  up,  lad. 
Thou,  knows  John,  as  us  be  innocent.  And  God  he 
knows  it.  Us  shall  have  mercy,  Dick.  Us  shall  walk 
the  gold  streets  and  that — for  ever,  Amen. 

dick:  It  be  easy  for  you  to  talk,  Mother.  I  do 
think  of  my  poor  wife,  I  do,  and  of  my  poor  babes. 
'There  goes  his  wife,'  they'll  say.  That's  what 
neighbours'll  say.   'Him  as  killed  poor  Mr  Harrison.' 

JOHN:     'As  killed  him  for  uns  gold.' 

dick:  John,  do  'ee  now  speak.  Say  as  us  be  inno- 
cent.    Don't  ee  see  us  hanged,  boy.     There  be  my 

93 


THE    CAMPDEN   WONDER 

poor  wife,  and  my  poor  babes.  Do  ee  speak,  John, 
speak.  Her'll  be  but  a  tramp,  and  my  little  Nan  and 
all.  Her  were  saying  so  pretty — And  I  shan't  see  un 
again.  Lord,  never  again!  And  her'll  want  bread 
to  eat,  and  go  to  bed  crying.  Do  ee  speak,  John. 
For  God's  sake,  John,  say  as  us  be  innocent. 

john:  Us'll  have  ballads  sung — and  I  shouldn't 
wonder.  Us'll  all  be  in  a  ballad.  'The  bloody  Per- 
rys,  they  was  hanged — O,  grief!'  And  there'll  be 
drums,  and  the  sun  a-shining — on  Broadway  Hill  and 
all.  And  there'll  be  neighbours.  Sure  to  be.  And 
us'll  go  in  a  cart,  like  high  up  folk.  'There  they  go'; 
neighbours'll  say,  'as  killed  un  for  ens  gold.  They 
was  always  bad  ones,  them  Perrys,'  they'll  say. 

joan:  John,  thou  be  going  afore  thy  Maker,  thou 
be.  Us  be  going  to  die  to-day.  It  be  a  sad  thing  for 
a  old  woman  to  die  with  her  sons — her  two  boys,  as 
she's  been  that  proud  of.  To  be  hanged  up  on  a  hill 
with  neighbours  calling  her  a  old  witch.  And  then, 
there  be  Dick's  little  maids.  O,  John,  do  'ee  speak, 
lad!  And  us  won't  be  put  in  churchyard.  I  shan't 
lie  with  my  poor  man,  a  dear!  Whatever  will  I  do,  a 
dear!     I  shan't  lie  with  my  poor  man! 

john:  I  ben't  going  to  speak,  I  ben't.  I  said  my 
say.  To  Judge  I  said  it.  Her  were  all  in  her  red 
gownd.  'Ah,  you  Perry,'  he  said:  'you  be  a  notable 
rogue.'  Her  had  a  sword  afore  her.  Now  us  be  go- 
ing to  be  hanged.  I  wonder  will  us  have  ale  give  us. 
Old  Cop  of  Aston,  they  give  him  ale. 

(ENTER    TOM    CONSTABLE) 

tom:     Master  Parson,  sir. 

joan:     He  ben't  here — yet — Tom. 

tom:     Can  I  do  aught  for  ee,  Mrs  Perry? 

joan:  Us  be  past  it,  Tom,  I  do  thank  ee.  It  be 
my  boy,  John,  and  my  boy,  Dick,  as  I  be  grieved  for. 
And  them  little  maids  of  Dick's.     Us  be  false  ac- 

94 


THE    CAMPDEN   WONDER 

cused,  us  be,  my  poor  mad  boy  knows.  And  God 
knows.  And  them  little  ones'll  want  bread  when  us 
be  gone! 

tom:  Mrs  Harrison  have  took  Dick's  little  ones. 
God  save  ee,  Mother.  Us  knows  as  you  be  innocent. 
And  neighbours  says  it.  God  bless  ee,  Dick,  if  I 
don't  see  ee  again. 

dick:  God  bless  ee  for  thy  kind  words.  Ee  com- 
fort poor  Nan,  Tom.  Don't  ee  let  folk  say  as  her 
Daddy  were  hung.     God  comfort  my  poor  Nan. 

tom:  God  bless  ee,  Dick,  lad,  and  comfort  ee. 
God  forgive  ee,  John.  Thy  hands  be  red  of  blood, 
John;  God  forgive  ee.  (To  PARSON)  Saving 
your  presence,  sir. 

parson:     Go,  Tom. 

(exit  tom) 

joan:  I  be  ready,  sir.  I  be  ready  to  go  in  the 
cart. 

parson:  Ah,  Mrs  Perry!  In  a  few  moments  you 
will  be  before  God's  Judgment  Seat,  a  trembling  bird 
on  God's  hand.  How  will  you  ask  mercy  of  Him, 
when  you  have  hardened  your  heart  here  on  earth; 
denying  the  guilt  for  which  you  suffer! 

joan:  I  ben't  afeard  to  meet  my  God,  sir.  God 
have  pity  upon  the  poor  and  on  the  widows.  I  be  in- 
nocent of  blood,  I  be.  I've  been  a  great  sinner,  and  I 
be  punished  for  it.  I  set  my  boy  John  afore  my  boy 
Dick.  Parson,  I  be  dying.  Will  ee  let  I  lie  in 
Chrisom  ground?  Let  I  lie  near  my  man,  Parson, 
along  of  my  poor  husband  ? 

(enter  tom) 

tom:     (in  a  choking  voice)     It  be  the  Sheriff,  sir. 

parson:  Come,  Mrs  Perry.  You  are  about  to 
walk  in  Paradise,  among  the  holy  ones.  You  are 
about  to  stand  before  God,  in  the  glory  unspeakable. 
Lean  on  me — lean  on  Tom  here. 

95 


THE    CAMPDEN   WONDER 

joan:  John,  won't  ee  say  now  as  we  be  false  ac- 
cused? Ee  won't  see  thy  old  mother  hanged?  Do 
ee  speak.  Say  as  you  spoke  lies,  John.  Thee  knows 
ee  did. 

dick:    For  God's  sake,  John. 

john:  I  confessed  to  Parson,  and  I  confessed  to 
Judge,  I  ben't  bound  to  confess  to  you. 

joan:  God  have  mercy  on  us  all  then.  May  He 
have  mercy  on  you,  John — And  on  you,  Dick — and 
on  me,  thy  mother — and  on  all  poor  souls.  May  us 
meet  glorified  in  God's  golden  courts,  Amen. 

parson:    Amen.     Come,   Mrs   Perry. 

joan:  God  be  with  ee,  Dick.  I've  put  ee  to  bed, 
Dick,  a  many  times.  But  now  I  be  going  to  bed  afore 
you. 

dick:     God  be  with  ee,  Mother.      God  comfort  ee. 

joan:  God  be  with  ee,  too,  John.  For  all  your 
sins. 

(She  turns  to  go) 
Ee  be  that  like  thy  poor  feyther,  John.    I  be  going  to 
God's  holy  house. 

tom:    Lean  on  me,  Mother. 

(They  go  out  at  door — the  drums  beat  up) 

john:     O,  us  be  going  to  have  drums. 

dick:  Thou  be  a  dog,  John,  thou  be.  O,  John, 
say  as  us  be  innocent,  say  it  out,  now.  It'll  save 
Mother.  It'll  save  my  little  Nan.  .  .  Call,  John; 
call!     O,  John,  thou  be  a  dog! 

john:  Call,  Dick.  That  be  right.  Call,  Dick. 
Shout!    Thy  throat  it  won't  call  much  longer. 

dick:     Ah,  God! 

john:  O!  It  be  'Ah,  God'  now,  be  it!  It  were 
T  be  a  proper  godly  one,'  it's  not  so  long  since.  How 
about  thy  twelve  shillin'  a  week,  Dick?  You  that 
was  to  be  that  high  in  the  world?  Eh,  Dick?  Thy 
twelve  shillin'  ?   Lower  than  the  dirt  I've  dragged  ee. 

96 


THE    CAMPDEN   WONDER 


Like  I  said  I'd  do.     Lower  than  the  dirt,  thou  and 
thy  twelve  shillin'. 

dick:  Then  thee  ben't  mad.  Thee've  sworn 
our  lives  away! 

john:     You  be  a  clever  one,  you  be! 

(re-enter  parson,  very  white  and  sick,  and  tom) 

dick:  Parson,  John  have  confessed.  He've  con- 
fessed he  have  sworn  false.  O!  Parson,  do  ee  save 
Mother.     He  have  confessed,  sir. 

john:  He  be  mazed,  sir.  Give  un  a  cordial,  Par- 
son.    He  be  clean  mazed. 

dick:  O,  Sir,  hear  en.  Do  ee  save  Mother. 
Her  said  he'd  done  it  a  purpose  to  cross  I.  Do  ee 
listen,  sir. 

parson:     Come,  Richard  Perry.     Compose  your- 
self.    We  are  poor  flames  blowing  in  the  wind,  now 
one  way,  now  another.     In  the  peace  of  God's  house 
our  light  will  burn  steadily.     Come,  Richard  Perry. 
(tom   undoes    chains) 

dick:  God  help  my  poor  wife.  God  help  all  dy- 
ing men  as  folk  won't  listen  to!  I've  lived  honest, 
and  I've  worked  honest,  and  this  be  the  end. 

parson:  It  is  but  the  beginning.  There  is  no  end 
to  the  glory  and  the  peace  of  God. 

dick:  (To  JOHN)  And  no  end  to  the  fire  for 
such  as  thee,  John.  May  the  red  hot  worms  gnaw 
thy  body,  John.     You  dog,  you  dog! 

parson:     Come,  Dick.     Help  him,  Tom. 

dick:  O  Parson,  do  ee  make  John  speak.  He 
have  confessed,  sir.  O!  sir,  he  have  confessed.  In- 
deed, sir,  he've  confessed.  Make  un  speak,  Parson. 
It'll  save  my  Nan. 

parson:  Come,  Dick.  It  is  but  a  step.  Do  not 
seek  to  stay  longer  in  this  wicked  world. 

dick:  But  he've  confessed,  Parson.  He've  said 
as  he  were  lying.     O!    sir,  do  ee. 

97 


THE    CAMPDEN   WONDER 

john:  Give  un  a  cordial,  Parson.  He  be  fair 
mazed.     Help  en,  Tom. 

tom:     Come,  be  a  man,  Dick! 

(exeunt — The  drums  again) 

john:  There  he  do  go,  him  and  his  twelve  shill- 
in'.  Ah,  you  godly  one!  Ha,  you  godly  one!  They 
got  you.  Lower  than  the  dirt,  like  as  I  said  I'd  do. 
Afore  all  Campden!  You  and  your  twelve  shillin'! 
Make  un  a  speech,  Dick.  Make  thy  speech  and  con- 
fession. O !  if  I  might  see  thee.  O !  if  only  door  were 
open.  Thee  be  looking  pale,  you  and  your  twelve 
shillin'.  You  that  thought  to  be  high  in  the  world. 
Aha!    Aha! 

(^4  cry  without  and  drums) 
There  he  do  go!    Aha!    Aha! 

{A  pause) 
(re-enter  parson  and  tom) 

parson:  O!  the  pity  of  it,  the  pity  of  it!  O! 
Lord  strengthen  me. 

john:     Mr  Parson,  Sir,  might  I  speak  to  ee,  sir? 

parson:  In  a  minute.  In  a  minute,  John.  O! 
Lord,  have  pity. 

john:  I  be  a  dying  man,  Parson.  I  got  summat 
to  say  to  ee. 

(parson  stands) 
Parson,  will  ee  give  I  comfort?  I  been  a  great  sin- 
ner, I  have.  I  been  drunk,  and  I  stole;  and  I  been 
poaching,  and  I  gone  with  women.  And  I  kill  poor 
Mr  Harrison.  O!  I  been  a  black  one,  I  have. 
Shall  I  have  mercy,  Parson?  Be  I  doomed  to  the 
fire? 

parson:  There  is  joy,  John,  over  one  sinner  that 
repenteth.  God's  mercy  is  infinite.  Put  your  trust 
in  Him,  John. 

john:     Ah,  sir.    I  do  feel  it  in  my  heart.     It  be  a 
glow,  like. 
98 


THE    CAMPDEN   WONDER 

parson:    Come,  John  Perry. 

(tom  undoes  chains) 

There  is  yet  one  thing,  John.  Where  is  Mr  Har- 
rison's body?  You  are  about  to  die,  John.  Tell  us 
this,  that  he  may  have  Christian  burial. 

john:  It  were  Dick  and  Mother  took  his  body, 
sir.  I  don't  know  where  it  be,  I  don't.  But  perhaps 
one  day  you'll  find  en.  You'll  be  wiser  on  that  day, 
Parson. 

parson:    You  talk  strangely,  John. 

john:  A  dying  man  have  a  right  to  talk  strange. 
I  be  ready,  Sir.  Will  you  say  a  prayer  for  me,  Sir? 
"Our  Father"  or  summat. 

parson:     Repeat  it  after  me,  John.     Come. 
(exeunt:    drums   again) 

(^4  pause,  during  which  the  drums  beat.     Then  a 

march  as  the  troops  pass  away) 

(ENTER  MRS  HARRISON,  PANTING) 

MRS  h:  Are  you  there,  Dick?  Ah!  Ah!  If  I'm 
not  near  my  death.  Are  you  there,  Dick?  Mrs 
Perry! 

(enter  parson.     MRS  H.  fans  herself.     PAR- 
SON mops  his  brow) 

parson:  The  wages  of  sin  is  death.  (He  mops 
and  sits  down)  The  wages  of  sin  is  death.  He 
talked  strangely.  And  the  old  woman — Ah,  God, 
her  gray  hairs — and  then  the  frantic  one,  about  his 
child.  Ah,  have  pity,  O  Father!  The  wages  of  sin 
is  death,  death.  It  has  been  a  terrible  day.  A  terri- 
ble day. 

mrs  h:  What's  terrible?  How  has  it  been  terri- 
ble?   What  ails  you,  man? 

parson:     (looking  at  her)     O,  Mrs  Harrison — 
mrs  h:     Oh?    Well,  he's  come  home,  like  I  said 
he  would. 
parson:    Who? 

99 


THE    CAMPDEN   WONDER 

MRS  h:  Who?  Why,  William  Harrison,  my  husband. 

parson:    Come  home? 

mrs  h:     Yes,  come  home,  like  I  said  he  would. 

parson:     Come  home? 

MRS  h:  If  you  don't  vex  a  sinful  woman's  flesh! 
Yes,  he  has  come  home — boozing — That's  where 
he's  been. 

(PARSON  COVERS  HIS  EYES  AND  MOANS) 

(aloud)  Now,  don't  set  there  moaning — You've  got 
to  set  them  Perrys  free. 

(SHE  GOES  TO  HIM  AND  SHAKES  HIM) 

Go  and  find  'em,  and  set  'em  free.  Come,  come, 
now,  don't  ee  take  it  to  heart.  We  all  make  mis- 
takes. That  John  Perry,  he  might  have  had  'em  all 
hanged. 

parson:     (weakly)    They  are — all  hanged. 

mes  h:    What? 

parson:    Hanged.    This  morning. 

mrs  h:    But  it  was  to-morrow. 

parson:    No,   to-day. 

mrs  h:  But  this  be  the  sixteenth?  This  be  Tuesday? 

parson:    No.     (a  long  pause) 

mrs  h:  So  that's  why  the  town  was  empty. 
That's  why  the  prison's  got  no — (fiercely)  Be  you 
telling  the  truth? 

parson:     O,  don't,  don't! 
(  a  pause) 

mrs  h:    May  God  be  good  to  a  sinful  woman. 

parson:    Amen. 

mrs  h:    They  be  happy  to  be  out  of  such  a  world. 

parson:  "O,  Father,  Now  is  my  soul  troubled, 
and  what  shall  I  say?" 

mrs  h:    Us  be  two  poor  souls,  Parson. 
(crying  and  laying  her  hand  on  his) 

curtain 
100 


MRS.  HARRISON 


MRS.   HARRISON 

PERSONS 
Will  Harrison 
Parson 

Tom  Constable 
Mrs.  Harrison 


MRS.  HARRISON 

SCENE:     A  Room  in  MRS  HA  RRISON'S  House 

mrs  h.  There's  your  cider.  Take  it;  there's  a 
toast  in  it.  Take  it.  And  now,  you  and  I  will  have 
a  reckoning. 

will  h.    Huh! 

mrs  h.  (Rapping  table)  You  may  groan  and  you 
may  grunt,  but  you'll  listen  to  me.  And  you'll  an- 
swer me.  You'll  answer  me,  before  you  leave  this 
room. 

will  h.     Gerr  yer. 

mrs  h.  I  want  to  know  about  you,  William  Harri- 
son. A  nice  husband  you've  been  to  me.  And  now 
I  want  to  know  about  you,  and  you'll  answer  me. 
Wher've  you  been  all  this  long  while?  Wher've 
you  been,  I  say?  What  Dolly  Draggletails  have  you 
been  with? 

will  h.     Ah,  put  your  head  in  a  bag! 

mrs  h.  Put  my  head  in  a  bag!  Put  my  head  in  a 
bag!  You  low  dog,  you.  There's  a  way  to  talk  to  a 
woman.  There's  a  way  to  talk  to  a  wife.  How  dare 
you  tell  me  put  my  head  in  a  bag.  How  dare  you, 
after  what's  past  ?  How  dare  you  ?  After  leaving  me 
alone  all  this  long  while.  Is  this  a  world  to  leave  a 
woman  alone  in?  Is  this  a  world  to  leave  a  nice, 
comely,  decent,  fine-grown  woman  alone  in?  Let 
alone  your  wife! 

will  h.     Huh!     I  run  no  risks  leaving  you. 

105 


MRS.    HARRISON 


Mrs  h.  No.  So  you  ran  no  risks,  didn't  you? 
There's  some  would  have  said  different.  There's  some 
set  a  higher  price  on  beauty  than  what  you  do.  A 
comely  woman's  something  to  them,  it  is. 

will  h.     It  is,  is  it?     They're  welcome! 

MRS  h.  When  you've  done  with  your  insults,  we'll 
talk.     Where've  you  been  all  this  long  while  ? — You  've 

been   with   your  beer   and  your  dollymops! I'm 

sick  to  think  I've  kissed  you. 

will  h.     And  I  am. 

mrs  h.  Thank  you.  Thank  you  for  nothing. 
And  now  I  want  an  answer.  When  you've  done 
with  your  sneers  and  your  jeers  I  want  an  answer. 
D'ye  know  what  you've  done  by  going  away?  D'ye 
know  what  your  beer  and  your  trollopsing  have  been 
the  cause  of? 

will  h.  I  know  what  your  naggin's  '11  be  the 
cause  of.     Here — {he  bangs  mug) — Cider. 

mrs  h.     You'll  answer  me  first. 

will  h.     Cider,  I  say. 

mrs  h.  You  have  been  the  cause  of  three  folk  be- 
ing hanged; — John  Perry,  and  Dick  Perry  and  poor 
old  Mrs  Perry; — Hanged.  Hanged  by  the  necki 
That's  a  fine  thing,  isn't  it,  for  beer  and  trulls  to  do? 
Wher've  you  been,  you  tank,  you  dog,  you  low 
thing.  Where've  you  been?  What  can  you  say  for 
yourself  ? 

will  h.  Gimme  my  cider.  Gimme  my  cider 
when  I  tell  you! 

mrs  h.  {Snatching  cider  mug)  Here!  {She 
smashes  it  on  floor  and  stamps  on  fragments)  There ! 
That's  all  the  cider  you'll  get.     Now,  answer. 

will  h.  {Getting  up  and  snatching  her  wrist)  Be 
that  the  game?  Well,  I'll  answer.  Sit  down  there. 
And  you  say  another  word,  and  you'll  get  a  knock'll 
give  you  sense!     I'll  tell  you  where  I've  been;  and 

106 


MRS.    HARRISON 


keep  it  dark.  You'd  better.  You  speak  a  word  of  it, 
and  you'll  be  missed.  The  first  dark  night  as  comes, 
you'll  be  missed. 

sirs  h.     That  means  you'll  murder  me. 

will  h.  Listen !  I  went  away  acos  I  was  paid  to 
go  away.     D'ye  understand  that?     Paid. 

mrs  h.     Who  paid  you  ? 

will  h.  Ah!  Wouldn't  you?  And  I  was  paid 
three  hundred  golden  pound  to  go  away.  And  my 
going  away  was  worth  that  to  the  man  as  paid  it. 

mrs  h.     Where  did  ee  go  to? 

will  h.     I  weren't  never  more'n  twenty  mile  away. 

mrs  h.  Then  ee  knew.  Ee  knew  of  what — ee 
knew  of  the  Perrys? 

will  h.     I  knowed  all  about  the  Perrys. 

mrs  h.     You  knowed  about  the  Perrys? 

will  h.     And  glad  to. 

mrs  h.     You  knowed  they  was  to  be  hanged? 

will  h.     And  glad  to. 

mrs  h.     And  'ee  could  have  saved  'en. 

will  h.  I  knowed  one  worth  two  of  that.  You 
listen  to  I  and  keep  your  mouth  shut.  John  Perry 
knew  where  I  were.  And  why  I'd  gone.  Think  I'd 
let  'en  live  when  he  were  that  crazy  to  go  and  get 
hanged?  Think  I'd  stop  'en  hanging  when  he  knew 
my  secret?     Gerr  yer;  talk  sense! 

mrs  h.  Then  you  let  them  poor  souls  be  hanged, 
knowing  they  was  innocent. 

will  h.     Ah,  talk  sense. 

mrs  h.     You  set  by  and  let  them  all  be  hanged  ? 

will  h.  Didn't  I  tell  you  I  got  three  hundred 
pound?  What's  the  Perrys  to  me?  I  know  my  du- 
ty, I  hope.  Hark  you  to  me,  missus.  It  was  my 
Lord  give  me  that  £300.  It  was  to  my  Lord's  advan- 
tage I  should  be  away  awhile.  What's  three  Perrys, 
or  six  Perrys,  or  a  churchful  of  Perrys  to  my  Lord? 

107 


MRS.    HARRISON 


Hark  you  to  me!  (he  gets  up  and  goes  to  her)  And 
you  breathe  so  much  as  a  shuddering,  wee  glimmer  of 
a  whisper, — you  just  raise  your  little  dove-like  voice — 
you  just  dare  to!  (he  snaps  Jiis  fingers)  And  it'll 
be  your  last. 

mrs  h.  (slowly)  And — I'm — to — live — with —  a 
— murderer?  I've  had  a  murderer  to  bed  with  me, 
and  held  'en  in  my  arms!  (to  WILL  H.)  And 
what  tale  will  you  tell  the  neighbours?  What  tale 
am  I  to  tell  the  neighbours  when  they  ask?  Lord 
God!  if  it  ben't  pitiful! 

will  h.  Damn  the  neighbours!  Gimme  my  ci- 
der. 

mrs  h.     There's  footsteps  coming  up  the  walk. 
It'll  be  parson.     O  God,  Will,  what  be  I  to  tell  en  ? 
(a  knock  at  the  door) 

will  h.  Why,  tell  'en — tell  'en — Tell  'en  some- 
thing; you'd  better.  Say  I  was  kidnapped.  And 
bear  me  out,  now.  Bear  me  out  in  that.  I  was  kid- 
napped. (Another  knock)  Set  down  there,  (she 
sits)  and  now,  remember.  You  say  a  word  of  the 
truth,  (he  snaps  his  fingers) — your  neck'll  go  like 
that! — Come  in!    Who  be  there? 

(ENTER  TOM  CONSTABLE  AND  PARSON) 

Why,  if  it  bain't  you,  parson.  Come  in.  Come  in! 
Why  now,  if  this  ben't  strange.  What  wonders  I 
have  to  tell  'ee. 

parson  O  Harrison.  There  have  been  wonders 
indeed.  To  think  of  you  coming  home  safely,  after 
all.  Your  wife  is  looking  quite  white,  even  now.  I 
don't  wonder. 

will  h.  They  do  say  as  joy  kills  quicker'n  grief, 
parson. 

parson  You  must  look  after  Mrs  Harrison.  It 
has  been  a  terrible  time  for  her. 

tom    Ah!  it  has. 

108 


MRS.    HARRISON 


will  h.  (recognising  TOM)  Why,  Tom.  Tom 
Constable.  And  how  be  you,  Tom  ?  Why,  what  joy 
it  be  to  meet  all  the  old  folk  agen. 

tom    Thank  'ee,  sir.     I  be  doing  kindly,  sir. 

parson  Yes,  I  brought  Tom  as  a  witness.  I 
have  to  write  to  my  Lord  and  tell  him  everything. 
Ah  me,  it  is  a  terrible  tale!  And  so  you've  come 
back? 

will  n.     They  do  say  as  seein'  is  believin'. 

parson  Just  to  think,  Mrs  Harrison.  Ah,  Mrs 
Harrison!  And  so  you've  come  back.  O!  if  you 
had  but  come  a  day  sooner.  No,  not  a  day;  an  hour; 
twenty  minutes. 

will  h.     We  be  in  God's  hands,  parson. 

parson  It  is  the  truth.  And  where've  you  been? 
Tell  me  now.     Tell  me  everything.     Everything! 

will  h.     Well,  you'll  think  there's  still  miracles. 

mrs  h.  He  was  kidnapped,  parson;  think  of  that, 
kidnapped. 

will  h.     By  a  man  on  horseback. 

mrs  h.     By  two  men  on  horseback. 

parson  Where  was  this?  Was  this  where  they 
found  the  collar? 

mrs  h.  Yes,  by  Battle  Ridge.  They  wore  masks; 
and  they  seized  him. 

tom  Why  didn't 'ee  welt  their  nags?  I'd  a  welted 
en,  afore  they'd  seized  I. 

mrs  h.  How  could  an  old  man  light  agenst 
two? 

parson     Yes, and  then? 

will  ii.     Why  then Why.  .  .  .     Let  me  see. 

Yes.  So  they  said.  .  .  .  No  a  said  nothing.  .  .  They 
up  and.  .  .  .  How  were  it  now?  (Aside  to  MRS.  11) 
Help  me  out  or  I'll  hit  'ee  one. 

mrs  h.  They  up  and  set  you  afore  one  of  them. 
You  told  me  just  now. 

109 


MRS.    HARRISON 


will  h.  Ah,  they  did.  Afore  one  of  them  they 
set  me. 

MRS  h.  And  he'd  been  eating  onions,  parson. 
Think  of  that.  The  one  he  set  afore  had  been  eat- 
ing onions.  Think  of  him  noticing  that.  Think  of 
a  man  noticing  that. 

parson     Go  on,  go  on. 

will  h.  So  they  set  me  afore  one  of  them.  And 
he'd  been  eating  onions.  I  could  never  abide  the 
smell.  No.  I  never  could  abide  onions.  Did  you 
ever  know  me  abide  the  smell  of  onions? 

mrs  h.  No,  you  never  did.  You  never  could 
abide  onions. 

will  h.  They  do  say  as  one  man's  meat  be  an- 
other's poison — 

parson     So  then? 

will  h.    Why,  all  in  good  time So  then 

Where  was  I  ?  So  then.  . .  You  be  in  such  a  hurry. . . 
Why.  ...     So  then.  .  .     I  wish  'ee'd  not  interrupt. 

mrs  h.  Here,  William  Harrison.  If  you  aren't  a 
trial  and  a  torment.  Do  for  goodness'  sake  let  me 
tell  the  story! 

tom    Ah,  do  'ee. 

parson     Go  on,  Mrs  Harrison. 

mrs  h.  So  they  rode  him  off,  oh,  for  miles.  And 
then  they  came  to  a  house,  and  they  locked  him  in  a 
room  for  all  the  next  day.  And  at  night  they  rode 
him  off  agen.  And  so  on  for  a  day  or  two.  And 
then  they  came  to  a  ship.  And  there  he  heard  'em 
selling  his  body  for  a  slave.  Selling  his  body  for  a 
slave — a  slave  to  the  Turk! 

parson     How  much  did  they  give  for  you,  William  ? 

will  h.     I  heard  one  of  them  say  thirty  shillin'. 

parson  But  that  couldn't  have  been  for  you. 
That'd  never  have  paid  taking  you  across  England. 

mrs  h.     It'd  be  more  like  thirty  pound. 

110 


MRS.    HARRISON 


will  h.  Well,  it  might  a  been  pound.  Thirty 
pound  then. 

mes  h.  And  then  the  ship  was  at  sea,  and  at  last 
they  come  to  the  Turks'  country,  where  they  sold  him 
for  a  slave. 

parson  To  think  of  that  now!  A  Campden  man 
a  slave  to  the  Turk! 

tom     O  Lord!     thy  wonders! 

will  h.     I  was  a  slave  to  the  Turk. 

PARSON     What  work  did  you  do,  William? 

will  H.     Why  hard  work.     Hard  work  it  was. 

mrs  h.  He  was  a  slave  to  a  doctor,  parson, — dig- 
ging in  the  herb  beds. 

will  h.     I  dug  'em  with  a  spade. 

tom    I'd  a  liked  to  a  seen  'ee  dig,  master. 

parson    And  how  did  you  get  away,  William? 

will  h.  Well,  I  got  away,  didn't  I, — though  I  be 
old. 

tom     Old  and  bold  as  the  saying  is. 

parson     Ah,  but  how? 

mrs  h.  His  master  sent  him  to  an  English  mer- 
chant with  a  bottle  of  elixir.  The  merchant  was 
sick.  And  William  said  he  was  an  Englishman  as 
had  been  stole  away.  And  the  merchant  put  'en  in  a 
ship.     And  so  he  came  home. 

parson    What  port  did  you  land  at  ? 

WILL  H.     {puzzled)     It  was  Norfolk,  I  do  think. 

MRS  H.  Norfolk  my  grandmother!  Portsmouth 
don't  I  keep  telling  you.  {to  PARSON)  I  think 
my  man  would  make  a  saint  cross.  Portsmouth, 
Will.    Norfolk's  in  France. 

WILL  H.  Ah,  Portsmouth.  I  be'n't  no  learned 
astronomer.  One  place  be  like  another  to  me.  I 
don't  hold  with  these  new  fangled  towns.  I  been  a 
slave  to  the  Turk.     Give  I  Campden. 

tom    O,  the  wonders  of  the  Lord! 

Ill 


MRS.    HARRISON 


parson     Well,  Will:  you  ought  to  write  a  book. 

will  h.  I  don't  know  about  any  book.  The 
Christian  religion's  book  enough.  There's  a  book. 
All  else  is  sin,  books  is. 

iom     Ah ! 

parson  Xow,  Will.  I  want  you  to  come  up  to  the 
church  with  me  to  return  thanks  for  your  restoration, 
and  to  ask  His  mercy  for  our  sins,  and  for  the  deaths 
of  his  innocents,  the  Perns. 

well  h.     Ah,  that  I  will,  Parson. 

{They  turn  to  go) 

parson     Come,   Mrs   Harrison. 

mrs  h.  I  be  feeling  overcome,  Parson,  I'll  stay 
here  and  read  the  Bible,  while  you  prays. 

parson  You  must  take  care  of  yourself,  Mrs  Har- 
rison. You  must  look  after  your  wife,  William.  She 
has  had  a  grievous  trial. 

will  h.  She'll  pull  round,  you'll  find.  Joy  Com- 
eth in  the  morning. 

MRS  h.     Have  I  been  a  good  wife  to  you,  Will? 

tarson     She's  been  overwrought,  William. 

mrs  h.     Have  I  been  a  good  wife  to  you.  Will? 

wlll  h.  Xow  don't  'ee  fuss.  Set  quiet.  She'll 
be  all  right;  she  just  needs  letting  alone  a  while. 
Come,  parson,  us'll  just  step  to  church. 

(exit  parson  and  will  h.     TOM  holds  door  for 

them) 

mrs  h.     (as  TOM  goes)     Tom! 

tom    Yes,  Mrs  Harrison? 

mrs  h.     Come  here,  Tom. 

(TOM  goes  to  table) 

mrs  H.     Reach  me  the  Bible. 

tom     Here  it  be.  miss. 

mrs.  h.     Xow.  Tom. 

tom     Yes.  Mrs  Harrison. 

mrs.  h.     You  know  them  little  girls  of  Dick  Perry's  ? 

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MRS.    HARRISON 


tom    Ay! 

mrs  h.     You'll  look  after  them  little  girls,  Tom? 

tom     I  said  I'd  do.     And  I  will  do. 

mrs  h.  You'll  not  let  folk  say  as  their  daddy  were 
hung? 

tom  I'll  break  their  heads  as  says  it.  They'll 
not  say  it  twice,  if  they  says  it  once. 

mrs  h.  You'll  swear  that,  Tom,  swear  it  on  the 
Bible. 

tom  There  be'n't  no  call  to  swear,  mum.  You 
knows  me,  I  hope. 

mrs  h.  Swear  it.  Swear  you'll  look  after  'em.  . 
Whatever  happens. . . 

tom    What  I  can  do  I'll  do. 

mrs  h.  (going  to  a  drawer)  This  be  for  you, 
Tom,  to  spend  for  them  little  girls.  It  be  what  I  got 
by  my  hens.     It  be  near  five  pound  in  silver. 

tom  I  don't  ask  no  money,  I  be  glad  to  do  a  kind- 
ness.    I  don't  ask  no  money. 

mrs  h.  Take  it.  Take  it,  I  say!  And  may  the 
Lord  prosper  you  for  all  you  do  for  them  poor  little 
maids.     Look  after  'em,  Tom. 

tom     I'll  look  after  'em,  mum. 

mrs  h.  Now  go,  Tom.  I  be  all-to  frushed  and  of 
a  frammock. 

tom     Can  I  get  'ee  anything? 

mrs  h.     No,  Tom.     Now  'ee  go. 

tom     Good  day  to  'ee,  mum. 

mrs  h.     God  save  'ee,  Tom. 

(exit  tom) 

mrs  h.  I  been  wife  to  a  murderer.  .  .  I  been 
wife  to  a  murderer.  .  .  I've  been  to  bed  with  a  man 
as  done  murder;  and  I've  helped  un  clear  after.  .  .  . 
(she  rocks  in  her  chair;  then  gets  up  and  goes  to  cup- 
board) But  never  no  more,  William  Harrison,  you've 
had  your  last  of  me.  .  .  .     (she  opens  cupboard)     I  be 

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MRS.    HARRISON 


the  lowest  of  the  low.  O  Lord,  I  be  the  lowest  of  the 
low.  ...  I  feel  as  I'd  been  spat  on.  (she  rummages 
among  bottles)  But  never  no  more,  William  Harri- 
son. .  .  .  God  have  mercy  on  a  sinful  woman.  .  .  . 
You've  had  your  last  of  me,  William  Harrison.  You 
can  go  to  your  Jennies,  you  can.  .  .  .  (she  takes  out  a 
paper)  This  is  it.  This  is  it, — is  the  cure.  I  bought 
it  for  the  rattens  as  ate  my  chicks.  What'll  kill 
rattens'll  kill  folk.  Where  be  my  thimble?  (she  pours 
powder  into  thimble  and  drinks)  Ugh !  it  be  bitter !  (she 
pours  again  and  drinks)  Ugh !  (she  puts  thimble  and 
paper  into  fire.  The  fire  spurts  up)  Ah,  pretty  it  be! 
(she  goes  to  table  and  begins  to  read  the  Bible:  she  spells 
it  out  slowly) 

"But  when  Jesus  saw  it,  he  was  much  displeased, 
and  said  unto  them:  Suffer  the  little  children  to  come 
unto  me.  Suffer  the  little  children  to  come  unto  rne." 
Us  be  little  children — "And  forbid  them  not.".  .  . 
It  be  a  long  road  for  poor  folk.  .  .  It  be  a  cold 
road  for  us,  poor  children.     .    .    .     (dies) 

THE    END 


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